changeling_the_lost_-_autumn_nightmares

WW70300 9 781588 465313 w w w. w o r l d o f d a r k n e s s . c o m 5 2 6 9 9 978-1-58846-531-3 WW70300 $26.99 US For use with the World of Darkness Rulebook PRINTED IN CANADA ll the leaves are yellow, All the grass is brown. All the nights are longer, Sun goes down. Crows are in the branches, Wolves are in the wild. Others in the shadows, Goodbye, child. — Anonymous This book includes : • Motivations, methods and examples from the antagonist changeling factions • In-depth treatment of the True Fae, complete with new potential Keepers • Expanded information on fetches, hobgoblins and human antagonists • Dozens of antagonists ready to drop into a chronicle

By Jes s Hartley, Matthew McFarland, Travis Stout and Chuck Wendig

 Introduction  Prologue: As the Days Grow Shorter was. They had rotaries in New England. Rotaries and seasons. All manner of things that turned as they were supposed to. It was easy to tell something was up at the Arboretum. The whole place had been cordoned off with security gates to keep stragglers from sneaking into the party. Rather than cutting through the plot of Jamaican caper trees, as he normally did, Peter worked his way around to the driveway, past the “Private Gathering – Invitation Only” signs that blocked traffic from entering, and then paused a moment to take in the changes since last time he’d shown up here. Namaah’s Courts were always held in the Arboretum, but most times they were fairly small and nearly silent, requiring little in the way of security to keep them from the public’s eye. The Autumn Queen seemed at home there, flanked by jacarandas and tulipwood trees, holding her eerie court among the shadows. Theoretically, the Autumn Court gatherings were open to members of all of the other Courts, but few outside of the Leaden Mirror attended. He wouldn’t have, except for Nim. She was Autumn, although she asserted most of the rest of them bored her to tears. She’d begged him to come, and he’d finally relented and quickly found most of what she’d said to be true. Autumn Court gatherings were quiet affairs held by moonlight, solemn gatherings where whispers and shivers were the tone of the day. Not a hell of a lot of fun for a philosopher of Spring, but when you were smitten, you did what you had to do. This, on the other hand… this was something altogether different. The normally open garden of the Arboretum had been walled off completely, a security gate running right up to a pair of two-story towers that had been erected across the main walkway into the Arboretum. The towers were wood, but painted to look like castle stone, complete with arrow slits and torch-holders where flickering gas-torches cast their glow out into the parking area. Between the towers, an iron portcullis blocked the walkway, flanked on either side by guards with shoulders that would put a linebacker to shame. Despite the “Private Event” signs, an obviously drunk letterman was arguing with one of the guards as Peter approached. “Do you know who I am?” The dark-haired drunk was built like a brick wall himself, but still managed to look puny beside the door guard. His slurred speech reeked of Jägermeister and cheap beer. “My father owns this school!” Beside him, a cute brunette with an asymmetrical bob cringed, obviously having heard this rant more than once. The guard ignored the drunk, but stepped forward when he caught sight of Peter. “G’wan in,” the Gargantuan grumbled, “Mizz Nim’s waitin’ on you.” The Ogre shoved the gate, which screamed its protest, and Peter slipped through. “Nice legs!” Peter wasn’t sure which of the girls had spoken, and in truth it didn’t much matter. They were near enough alike to be twins, a common occurrence here on the Miami campus. He returned their compliment with a wide grin. “You, too, my dears, you, too…” The girls looked up as their paths crossed with his. He caught and held first one vivid blue gaze and then the other, exerting the slightest push of desire in the girls’ direction, and then whispered something that made them first gasp and then blush as he passed by. When he looked back over his shoulder, the girls had paused and were whispering conspiratorially together, their faces so close he imagined that their sweet, moist sophomoric breath was mingling in an almost-kiss. They looked in his direction and smiled. For a second he considered going back, but Nim was waiting and no matter how much fun the blonde bimbos would have been, Nim was… well, Nim. Nim of the pale skin, even under Miami’s sun. Nim of the delicate hands and tiny feet…. Peter’s hooves echoed against the campus sidewalk as he made his way down San Amaro towards the Arboretum. He loved the sound they made, hoof on stone, and Halloween was one of the only times he could get away with burning away the Mask and walking openly in public for a while. After all, amidst wolf-men and cowgirls, pirates and zombies, nobody would look too closely at his legs or ears or even eyes; they did wonderful things with contact lenses these days. He’d already been called Tumnus twice on the way across campus. He’d resisted the temptation to buy a red scarf, however. Not in this heat. His smile faded slightly as a trickle of sweat rolled from his hairline down his bare back, joining the sticky-dampness that had already gathered at the base of his spine. His pelt was sodden with it, the heavy moisture that made even the most delightful outdoor exertions a chore. It was like breathing underwater. In a Jacuzzi. Full of lukewarm beer. Halloween wasn’t supposed to be like this. Autumn wasn’t supposed to be like this. Autumn was for fall leaves and crisp air, apple cider and long nights by a fire anticipating the first snowfall. He remembered autumn. But here in Miami, there was nothing but summer. No spring, no fall and certainly no winter. It hadn’t always been like this, they said. Hot, yes, and humid, but not like this. But what did you expect from a city where summer never died? The rotary came into sight, pulling him from his morbid thoughts. It always cheered him a bit, seeing the circular round-a-bout where San Amaro, Certosa and Campo Sano met. It was like a little piece of home, or at least he thought it

  It clanged shut behind him and the satyr trotted down the main walkway, the crunch of his hooves on the gravel drowning out the drunk athlete’s protests in his wake. Lanterns lit with blue-green ghostfire marked the pathway to the center of the garden, although Peter had walked it, alone or accompanied, enough times not to need their aid. Voices reached him through the wet-hot night, more voices than he’d expected. Although Namaah held court every month, there were rarely more than a dozen folks present. The Autumn Court had been whittled down to almost nothing between the death of their former leader and the infighting that had followed. They were anxious for allies, which was, for the most part, how he’d ended up attending. Ahead, however, the throng was easily twice that, and as he entered the clearing, the conversation around him seemed surprisingly light. More lanterns lit the area, and among their light walked the Lost. Some wore mundane costumes in keeping with the holiday, either oddly complementing or grotesquely contrasting with the far more outlandish appearance of their fae miens. In front of him, a Pierrot with the face of an unearthed corpse smiled over his champagne at a black-scaled woman wearing a Hedgespun gown seemingly made of tattered twilight sky. A teenage girl with skin of cracked, yellowed porcelain enhanced her doll-like appearance with the complicated ruffles of a Southern belle’s ball gown; her fanning had to be an affectation, as she didn’t seem to sweat. And at the far end of the glade, the unnaturally young Queen Namaah sat on an ornate throne, the arms and back of which were capped with authentic-looking human skulls. At her feet, a familiar figure lounged, her pale skin almost glowing against the black velvet of her Queen’s costume. Her hair was tied with a blood-red kerchief, holding the silver flood back from her face. As if feeling his gaze, Nim quickly stood and turned toward him. “Peter, darling!” The petite young thing took three steps away from the throne and extended a hand in invitation, one he gladly accepted. He was across the clearing and holding her almost before she could blink, thrilling at the taut, almost frightened tension in her form before she softened, caught his Ovis canadensis horns and pulled him down for a kiss. He crushed her to his bare chest, their mouths meshing until she pushed away, gulping for breath. “It’s nice to see you, too,” he quipped, setting the tiny minxlette down onto her feet. “I was beginning to wonder if you were coming,” she teased, smoothing out the skirt of her costume with both palms. “This place is a bore without you.” “You know I’d never stand you up, Nim. I just had some things to do, first.” Peter squirmed under her assessing gaze. He didn’t like keeping secrets from her, but some things were better not spoken of, and his meetings with the exiled queen of Spring were definitely in that category. While Nim and the rest of the Autumn Court had no love for the Summer King’s empirical rule, there was a world of difference between quietly grousing about Grandfather Thunder’s tyranny and actually doing something about it. Peter was proud of his part, fulfilling an important role by pretending to be part of the vapid Vichy Spring Court that had bargained for a place in Miami after the old Spring Queen’s Court had been run out into the Everglades. All he had to do was play up the shallow horn-dog persona, and no one, even the Duchess of Spring, looked any deeper, giving him the perfect opportunity to feed information back to the rightful Queen’s ears. Eventually he’d tell Nim, when they were ready to make their move. He knew she didn’t like the Summer Court’s choke-hold on the city any more than he did, and when the real Spring Court was ready to make its play, he had no doubt she’d be beside him. “Where’d you go, love?” A full head shorter than he, even in her high-heeled boots, Nim stared up into his eyes curiously, as if searching it for a clue to his thoughts. “Just thinking about you and that dress, love. My gods, you look good enough to eat!” “Oh, good,” she said, smiling mischievously. “You remember that, I’ll be calling you on it later.” She blushed at her own audacity before slipping a hand into his. Peter chuckled and allowed his lovely gypsy imp to pull him off into the shadows. m m m He knew right away when they’d entered the Hedge. Although the entryway had been cleared enough that the Thorns hadn’t physically touched him, he still felt it as he pushed out of the mortal world and into the Bramble, the sharp spines tearing away what he imagined were bits of his soul. Nim didn’t seem bothered, pulling him along the narrow and winding path. His hooves bit into the sandy turf as they walked, careful not to stray into the boggy fen on each side of the trail.

 “Where are we going again?” Peter looked nervously over his shoulders, down at the water and then up at the inky night sky. He felt unsafe just being here. He knew they weren’t safe just being here. He could almost feel the cool, wet breath of something on his neck. There were too many things that crept along these trails…. “It’s a secret, silly. If I told, it wouldn’t be a secret, now would it?” Nim leaned into him a little and then hurried down the path, tugging at his hand to pull him along behind her. At first, Peter tried to keep track of their direction as they made their way through the marshy bog. But after a while, everything looked just as familiar or unfamiliar as everything else, with no notable landmarks by which to plot his course. At times he was certain they’d lost the trail and were wandering blindly, but Nim continued onward without hesitation until he gave up trying to keep track of the direction himself and simply followed her deeper into the moonlit night. At last, Nim paused. “Here we are!” She spread her arms wide, her broomstick skirt flaring around her ankles as she spun, showing him what they’d traveled so far to find. Peter frowned in confusion. “Nim, there’s nothing here.” “Of course there is…” She gestured to the flat round stone she was standing upon. It was flush with the ground, but a good 10 yards wide. Around the outside edge, shadows marked what appeared to be holes every few feet. Most were empty, but two held wooden posts, set across from each other bisecting the circle. She smiled wickedly, reaching around to remove the bandana from her hair. “Come here…” “Nim, what exactly do you…” Standing on her tiptoes, she pulled him down to silence him with a kiss and then wrapped the bandana across his eyes like a blindfold. “It’s a surprise.” Peter felt her hand in his again, urging him forward. “Here, lie down here.” She gently pushed him down and pressed hard against him until he was prone on his back against the bedrock. He wound his arms around her, pulling her close, but after a moment she squirmed out of his grasp, and he felt her weight against his chest, a bare thigh on each side of him. Her warmth almost irresistibly close, he reached for her again, but she quickly snatched his hands up and bound them together with what felt like a leather strap.

 “Wha —” he began to protest, but she smothered his question with her mouth. Then far too quickly, she was gone, flying off his chest with the lithe dexterity he’d come to treasure. “Wait, where are you going?” “Just here…” she answered, from above his head, and he felt the hem of her skirt brush his cheek as she passed. There was a tug at his wrists and the sound of leather gently groaning as the straps tightened, pulling his arms over his head. “Nim?” While she’d proven a willing partner to his attentions, Nim had never shown this type of initiative. Peter didn’t know whether to be nervous or thankful. There was the whisper of leather boot souls on stone, and her hand trailed down his skin from fingers to shoulder and down across his bare chest. “What’s wrong, love? You’re not… scared… are you?” Her hand trailed further down, as if seeking proof that fright was not the emotion ruling him at the moment. He did not disappoint her. She moved again, stroking down the half-furred pelt of his thigh and further down, past knee and attenuated ankle to the slim curve just above his hooves. There, the leather straps tightened again, pulling until he was stretched out prone across the stone circle. He breathed deeply, anticipating what was to come next. Nim knelt close. He could feel her breath against his face, even more warm and moist than the Florida night air. He strained to reach up to kiss her, but the bonds at his wrists and ankles held him fast. She lowered herself against him, her mouth on his as her fingers unknotted his blindfold. He opened his eyes, finding himself enrobed in the silver fall of her hair. Loose from the scarf, her hair tumbled around them like a tent, walling out the rest of the world. She smiled down at him, and for a moment there was nothing in the world for him but her eyes. “You’ve been a bad boy, Peter.” She leaned back, knotting her hair behind her once more. “Yes… yes I have… very bad. I must be punished.” “You’ve made some very important people very cross with you.” “I…” Peter paused, confused at her words. “I… what?” Nim reached into the pouch at her waist, and took out a small obsidian knife that glittered like starlight. “You’ve been out visiting Rose in the bogs.” All the playfulness had fallen out of her voice. “I… Nim. Let me explain.” Peter’s mind whirled. She knew about his spying for the Spring Queen, but surely that wasn’t a problem. Autumn and Spring, while not allies per se, were surely working towards the same goals. “Surely you don’t like Thunder any more than we do… I mean, after all he’s done?” “Of course not. We loathe him. He’s destroying the city.” “We hate him, too! Not just the new Spring, but the rightful Court and the rightful Queen. We’ve got a plan!” “Everyone knows your plan, Peter. Thunder, Namaah, Maria… everyone. They know you’ve been playing double agent for Rose, and they’re not pleased.” “But…” This made no sense. How could they know? And why… “But you’re Autumn Court! Surely Namaah understands that…” “Namaah understands that if you’ve been clumsy enough to tip Thunder off to your plan, you’re of no use to her. Thunder would have killed you himself and Spring be damned, but he was afraid it would cause too many ripples. So he asked Namaah for a favor.” “A favor?” Nim nodded, running the stone blade against the pad of her thumb. It sliced deeply, leaving a trail of red in its wake. “Autumn sees to your silence. Publicly, two of us went into the Hedge and one came out. I play the part of the frightened, bereaved lover who ran in fear instead of staying to defend you when they came. It’s not noble, but who could blame me? We all know what’s out there. And it’s mostly true, really. I really am afraid of what’s coming.” She shrugged softly. “It won’t convince everyone, but it’s the gesture that matters. Namaah will offer some small compensation to Spring Court for the loss of one of their most loyal members. Privately, on the other hand, Maria is pleased to be rid of the rat in her midst, and both she and Thunder will owe Namaah favors for taking out the garbage.” Peter struggled against his bonds, trying to summon some plan, some words to free him. But as Nimue gazed down upon him, blade in hand, fear filled his mind. No room for logic. His words spilled out in a tumultuous panic. “Nim, you love me! You can’t do this! Not after everything we’ve shared!” “After everything…” For the first time, he saw her eyes turn truly hard. Her voice was a whisper. “You remind me of my Keeper, Peter. You always have. From the moment you first touched me.” She leaned in, her breath a warm caress against his skin. “You weren’t afraid to touch me. Neither was he. You should have been afraid, Peter. You could have given me that much.” Her voice was a whispering caress in his ears, and her razor-sharp blade echoed the sound as it gently slit a long red stripe from his side down his thigh. Strangely, there was no pain, just the warmth of his blood as it pooled on the limestone bedrock beneath him. He felt the cool fall wind on his flesh, and realized that she was gone, noiselessly fleeing back down the paths before whatever it was that she’d baited with his blood came out of the Hedge for him. A faint sound drifted across the clearing. He couldn’t turn his head far enough to see what had made it — a rustling, or maybe the sound of something testing the air, sniffing at the scent of his blood. It wasn’t deep; it could be a small hobgoblin, or maybe something closer to a human nose. It could even have been his imagination. He would have liked, at least, to be able to believe it was just his imagination. He shut his eyes, and waited.

 Introduction © 2007 White Wolf, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of White Wolf, Inc. Reproduction prohibitions do not apply to the character sheets contained in this book when reproduced for personal use. White Wolf, Vampire, Werewolf the Forsaken and World of Darkness are registered trademarks of White Wolf, Inc. All rights reserved. Changeling the Lost, Storytelling System, Autumn Nightmares, Winter Masques, Rites of Spring, Lords of Summer and The Equinox Road are trademarks of White Wolf, Inc. All rights reserved. All characters, names, places and text herein are copyrighted by White Wolf, Inc. The mention of or reference to any company or product in these pages is not a challenge to the trademark or copyright concerned. This book uses the supernatural for settings, characters and themes. All mystical and supernatural elements are fiction and intended for entertainment purposes only. Reader discretion is advised. Check out White Wolf online at http://www.white-wolf.com PRINTED IN CANADA Credits Authors: Jess Hartley, Matthew McFarland, Travis Stout and Chuck Wendig Developer: Ethan Skemp Editor: Scribendi.com Art Director: Aileen E. Miles Interior Art: Andrew Hepworth, Jeff Holt, Veronica Jones, Pat Loboyko, Britt Martin, Peter Mohrbacher, Justin Norman Front Cover Art: J. P. Targete Book Design: Aileen E. Miles The Changelin g: The Lost Line Autumn Nightmares Winter Masques Rites of Spring Lords of Summer The Equinox Road

 Table of Contents Prologue: As the Days Grow Shorter 2 Introduction 8 Chapter One: Rivals (Changelings & Mortals) 10 Chapter Two: Gentle Lords and Fair Ladies (True Fae) 52 Chapter Three: Horrors Within, Horrors Without (Fetches & Hobgoblins) 96

 Introduction Autumn is the time of fear. So say the Lost, and they aren’t the only ones. As the year slouches on toward winter, summer fades and gives one last burst of heat before it’s time for the harvest. Not that autumn itself scares us — but it’s a good time for fear, a poetic time for fear. Twilight comes earlier and earlier, and with it comes cool air and the slow death of the green. These things add up to us. Autumn is the dusk of the year, the promise of night. And what do we do, with our Devil’s Night fires and Halloween stories and horror movies? We revel in it. As well we should. Autumn Nightmares is a supplement that details the dangerous antagonists of the Changeling: The Lost setting, whether they come from the ranks of the Lost themselves, from the thorny borderland of the Hedge or remote, dread Arcadia. Autumn Stories The topic of Autumn Nightmares is not exclusively autumnal, and the things found herein are usable yearround, of course. Confronting a fetch on a sweltering summer night has its own mystique, when the temperature’s so high the murder rate soars. The Others may walk the earth on a still winter night, with no insects or animals abroad to mark its passing. But the inspiration of autumn is a potential strength. It’s not just Halloween, though admittedly the holiday casts a long and delightful shadow over our forebrains. Autumn is the mark of transition between summer and winter, more journey than destination. Autumn matches quite nicely with stories that get darker as they go along (quite appropriate for the World of Darkness). If you want to tell a story with a particularly autumnal bent, try adding in a few extra touches for thematic purpose. Visually, autumn is easy to get a handle on. We think of reds and golds and oranges, the colors of autumn leaves and the harvest. But as the season creeps on toward winter, the colors fade to brown, and the skies turn gray more often. It implies a more limited color palette, which might be useful in describing a scene. Consider an urban street, all bleak concrete and faded asphalt, lit only by the sullen orange of streetlights and splashes of red and gold neon. The Hedge may shift into autumnal colors as well, all bits of gray rock and burnt-brown thorns with only the occasional muted red or orange flower, fruit or leaf. Going into Chinese sources, autumn is sometimes associated with the element of metal, the color of white or silver, the direction of west, the quality of “sharp and pointing” and the organs of the lungs and large intestine. All of these things roughly accord with the same sort of chi, which matches potential themes. Dry winds coming out of the west might be a harbinger of a dangerous threat, and of course, the idea of sharp metal has its place in antagonistic stories. Is a knife the traditional killing implement of autumn? It would be interesting if there’s more to these slasher movies than one would originally assume. And, of course, read Ray Bradbury. Something Wicked This Way Comes and the stories of The October Country are nothing short of a passionate series of love-letters written to the season of autumn and all the thrills and dread to be found within. If you can’t find some inspiration there to provide a neat twist for your chronicle, you’re not looking. Fear as a Theme The World of Darkness is a horror setting, but Changeling: The Lost is not solely a horror game. It has a strong core of horror, yes, but fear and terror and revulsion don’t govern every waking moment of a changeling’s life. There needs to be contrast and respite for fear to work. A story built around fear benefits greatly from the traditional pacing of a narrative story — specifically, the slow build toward a climax. As the story approaches the climax, of course, there’s room to throw in a number of potential shocks that blindside the players “I see a wolflike thin g comin g over a dark river — at the shallows — just above a waterfall, the starlight shinin g up his pelt. I see a brown oak leaf blowin g far up in the sky. I see a small bat flyin g. I see many other things, runnin g through the forest trees and slippin g through the highest branches, and they’re all comin g this way!” — Ray Bradbury, “Homecoming”

 with a sudden burst of gore or danger. These shocks are best used with some restraint, however. Too many, and the players begin to anticipate the next one instead of focusing on the surroundings and enjoying the slow build of suspense. It’s also true that movies have a slight edge over roleplaying in this regard; a horrific image can cause a more sudden shock if the eye can take it in all at once, whereas a Storyteller has to spend a little more time describing it. Most fears are somewhat external by nature, and that comes with the most basic element of a fear: the loss of control. If we have perfect control over a situation, then there’s nothing to worry about, right? So fear begins with something that we cannot control, and therefore poses the threat of doing us harm that we can’t prevent. This can begin internally, of course: something within us provides the possibility of doing harm to ourselves without meaning to. For the Lost, their eroding Clarity is a strong way to address this theme. If your senses lie to you, telling you that a harmless person is a monster or that a vicious threat is an innocuous person or thing, you are unable to fairly judge what actions might keep you safe. And then there are the external threats — which, notably, are the focus of Autumn Nightmares. It’s possible to be afraid of an environmental shift, of course; apocalyptic horror stories play heavily on the fear of a world that cannot provide you with security or even consistency. The Hedge represents the dread of a de-powering and dangerous environment to a lesser degree, while Arcadia as it appears in the fragmented memories of the Lost is the more extreme interpretation. But the Hedge and Arcadia are dangerous not just because of the environmental hazards they pose and the isolation from safety and support but because of their denizens. Which is where antagonists come in. Again, one can’t control a killer’s desire to kill, one can only attempt to survive an encounter with him, perhaps even by removing his ability to kill by trapping or killing him. A key element of dread is the thought of another living being actively wishing us harm, be it from vicious animal instinct, reasoned logic or mad sadism. This is one of the reasons why we so gladly indulge in an entire book devoted to the antagonists of Changeling, to be frank. The mercurial nature of fae folklore is a perfect fit for a wide variety of antagonists. They are almost impossible to control, save for discovering whatever rules they abide by — never really our own — and then using their rules against them. And so it is here. Certainly, some antagonists can be disposed of with brute Ogrish strength and Beast savagery, but there’s always the opportunity for an antagonist that challenges a protagonist to think outside the box, to trick Rumpelstiltskin into revealing his name. Sometimes it takes logic. Sometimes it takes illogic or luck. It’s always tricky. But then again, if you could successfully defeat an enemy every time, there’d be nothing to worry about. How to Use This Book Autumn Nightmares is an antagonist book, and like all proper such books, devotes itself to the discussion of how to use the antagonists within to best effect. This may not be the only word on the dangerous enemies to be found within the world of Changeling: The Lost, but it should provide a solid foundation. Chapter One: Rivals starts off on what some would consider the safer side (though they’d likely be wrong), detailing antagonist changelings and mortals. On the changeling side, there’s discussion of how to use the more extremist form of antagonists, from the solitary menaces of the Mad to the organized cells of militia and bridge-burners. Then the chapter moves on to talk about human antagonists, be they unwitting mortals endangering a fae society they know nothing about or the ensorcelled with an axe to grind. A number of sample characters provide instant antagonists to drop into any chronicle, from the lunatic King of Cats to the ensorcelled vampire Rolf Reiter. Chapter Two: Gentle Lords and Fair Ladies delves into the ways, whys and wherefores of the True Fae themselves. Here we discuss how they appear to others, both the changelings they take and the mortals they pursue, and some potential explanations for where the True Fae came from and why they are the way they are. Rules governing their interaction with the mortal world are also discussed, allowing for more detail in running conflicts between the Lost and their terrifying Keepers. Here also we discuss the Charlatans, those Others who have been banished or marooned outside Arcadia, often disguised as something far less dangerous than what they are. A selection of sample antagonists, both Gentry and Charlatans, is also provided. Chapter Three: Horrors Within, Horrors Without moves into discussion of fae menaces not fully of Arcadia or born of mortal flesh. The first part of the chapter examines the fetch in greater detail, offering a variety of new rules and story ideas to further flesh out these warped mirror-images of the Lost. The second part offers more information on those hobgoblins that populate the Hedge, and a number of new “breeds” of hobgoblin with which to menace a troupe, from the sometimes helpful Hedge Beasts to the gruesome formlessness of the enticers. Here and there throughout the book, we reference the setting of the Trident freehold of Miami, as described in Appendix Two of Changeling: The Lost. When we do so, it’s with a twofold intent: first, to flesh out the Miami setting a bit farther and second, to provide clear examples of how a Storyteller could use the material in this book to add to an existing chronicle. So when Maria Thorne’s fetch is detailed using the ideas present in this book, look at this also as potential inspiration for how to flesh out fetches in interesting ways based on pre-existing characters in your own chronicle. This approach will continue in Winter Masques, and on throughout the other supplements of the Changeling line. We hope you find it useful and evocative. And that’s enough said. Please, by all means, read on. How to Use This Book

10 Chapter One: Rivals

11 e had me up against the Hedge wall, the thorns biting through my jacket and into my back. Blood dribbled down, and I could feel how the barbs were drinking from me. They called him Todd the Lion, because, well, shit, he looked more than a little like a lion. I’d heard the stories about him, but never thought I’d meet him. But when I got in close with the King, Todd found me. He paced in front of me as I hung there on the thorns, his wormy little Glamour-slut trailing him (stupid girl looked 10 kinds of broken the way she was twitching and gnawing her lower lip bloody). The Hedge shifted and twitched with every step. His anger was palpable. Leaves curled and darkened away from him. I could smell his musk. “We’ve got a little group, as I’m sure you know,” he said. As if to explain, he held up his wrist. His tawny fur was shaved, there, and on the bare skin I could see the tattoo of a hand holding a pistol. “The Summer Court isn’t protecting anybody anymore. So we’re going to take up the job. But, to do so, we’re going to have to clean house.” And then he turned and shot me in the kneecap with a pistol I didn’t even know he had. I screamed. So did the Hedge. Something bird-like screeched off in the distance. His little human freak giggled, and chewed her fingernails. He ripped me down off the wall. “Crawl back. Doorway’s about a hundred yards down, and should still be there if you crawl fast enough. When you get back, tell your King we’re coming for him.”

12 Chapter One: Rivals Through a Mirror Darkly: Other Changelings For all the potential foes a newly returned changeling may face upon her exodus, few are at once as familiar and frightening as her fellow escapees. While beasts from the Hedge might threaten her body and the Others threaten her soul, a rival changeling can threaten her very Clarity. Whether the rival is a lone madman driven to murder by the shattered remnants of his psyche or an organized and regimented cadre of bridge-burners, when a changeling is put up against one of her own, it throws her own plight into sharp relief. There but for the grace of God (or Fate, if you prefer) goes she — what choices brought these two damaged individuals to their present circumstances, and how slight were the differences between those choices? Psychology of the Rogue Changeling What makes a changeling turn against her own kind? In a world with so many threats lurking in the shadows — the Others, vengeful fetches, hungry Hedge-beasts — why would a changeling throw away even the minor security of greater changeling society? The answer, unfortunately, is not a simple one, and it varies widely from changeling to changeling. Fear is perhaps the most common motivation, followed closely by madness. Other changelings are motivated by greed, or a kind of misguided veneration of the Gentry. Still others are driven by some all-consuming goal or obsession — in itself a form of madness, but a more focused and directed madness than the general fractured sanity that so often plagues the Lost. Of course, motive alone is hardly the be-all and end-all of a changeling’s journey down the broken path. MotivaRivals No rose without a thorn, or love without a rival. — Turkish proverb tions push different individuals down different paths — an Ogre driven by fear might become a staunch militiaman, ready to sacrifice body and soul (and the lives of a few expendable troops) to keep the Others at bay. That same fear might drive a shadow Darkling with mystical inclinations to become the leader of a bridge-burner cell. Oftentimes, understanding the role a rogue changeling chooses for himself can aid in understanding his motives. Changelings are nothing if not mercurial, and it isn’t uncommon to see one of the rogue Lost drift from one category to another. Perhaps the changeling goes toe to toe with one of the Gentry and comes out victorious, shifting her perception of the True Fae from figures of sheer terror to something that can be exploited for gain. Maybe a privateer’s Fae “patron” abandons him, forcing him to seek some other protection from vengeful members of the local freehold. Some even manage to rehabilitate themselves enough to rejoin changeling society, though this is admittedly a rare occurrence. The Mad The events of a changeling’s captivity and escape are often so traumatic as to inflict irreparable harm to the escapee’s psyche. While many at least partially come to grips with their new lives and find solace in the society of the local freehold, others are so shattered by the experience that they never truly recover and cannot even interact functionally with their own kind. These sad, solitary souls eke out a living wherever they can, often on the outskirts of the freehold’s territory. Many are Courtless; a few join Courts by swearing their own, personal oaths to one of the seasons

Through a Mirror Darkly: Other Changelings 13 without ever joining the established organization of the local Courts. Motives As the name suggests, insanity is the most common “motive” among those changelings collectively referred to as “the Mad.” Changeling society is, as a rule, remarkably tolerant of the quirks and foibles of its members, so those who are rejected by the freehold are by definition extreme in their madness. Occasionally, the Mad might congregate into lunatic motleys, each reinforcing the others’ derangements, but most are far too lost inside themselves to even associate with others of their ilk. Those with severe, obvious and truly dangerous afflictions, such as homicidal mania or sociopathic tendencies, are usually dealt with by the Courts in one way or another (how harshly depends entirely on the Court in question), but those whose derangements are more subtle often slip through the cracks. Isolated and broken, these unfortunate wretches dwell on the fringe of changeling society, going through the motions of whatever passes for normalcy in their shattered minds. Second only to madness, fear is perhaps the chief motivator of the Mad. Fear is a natural reaction to the long enslavement every changeling suffers through in Arcadia, and most of the Lost experience a healthy dose, particularly immediately following their escape. For most, that fear is, if never entirely erased, then at least brought under control and channeled into caution or a healthy survival instincts, but when the barriers of the mind are not as strong as they should be that fear can creep in and taint every aspect of a changeling’s life. She fears the Others, for they might return at any moment to take her back. She fears the Courts, for the ever-changing dance of politics might push her from her position of safety. And, ultimately, she fears even her own Lost brethren, for who can say that any smiling face might not hide a traitor, that any hand extended in friendship might not conceal cruel manacles of iron? Thus withdrawn into themselves, the fearful Mad become intensely paranoid and self-reliant. They may not appear to be gibbering madmen to outward appearances, but woe betide any changeling who has the ill fortune to leave a shadow of suspicion in the mind of one of the Mad. Greed is a comparative rarity in the motivations of the Mad, although it is not absent by any means. Not all of these poor wretches are gibbering lunatics incapable of functioning in the real world — just as mortal sociopaths, some of the Mad are erudite, clever and charming, with a pleasant façade concealing a cold, utterly selfish core. Such changelings are often loners, preying on their own kind for money, power or even the simple thrill of the hunt. Greeddriven Mad may be privateers, selling their Lost kin to hobgoblins or the Fae, or their goals might be more mundane: murder, theft or the acquisition of some intangible they perceive as being blocked by another changeling. Perhaps the broken Lost covets another’s lover, or the adulation given to a renowned poet. What separates the Mad from any other changeling with the Vice of Greed is the lengths to which the insane changeling will go to acquire the object of his desire. Most changelings would be content to draw the line at rumor-mongering or petty theft; the Mad thinks nothing of going so far as assault, murder or even abduction. Worship of the True Fae is less common among isolated Mad than among small groups or cults, but it is not unheard of. Most often, a Mad changeling’s primary motivator is fear of the Others, which, much as ancient humans venerated the destructive power of nature, can lead to worship of the Gentry in a misguided hope of placating them. Other times, the worship of the Fae came first — the Others are, after all, creatures of madness and inscrutability, and prolonged contemplation may shatter the bonds of sanity. A lone worshipper of the Gentry is often indistinguishable from a privateer, especially when all one has to examine is the aftereffects of his handiwork. But where a privateer is motivated by some sort of personal gain, the Mad perform their terrible, Clarity-shattering deeds for no other reason than because it’s what the Gentry want. Compulsions drive the actions of many of these unfortunates, but in most cases they aren’t a primary motivation toward becoming an antagonist. A fearful paranoiac might Rogue Changelin gs and the Courts In most freeholds, the Courts as mystical pledges between an individual changeling and a season and the Courts as social and political entities made up of changelings all sworn to the same season are synonymous. When a changeling joins the Summer Court, for example, she swears her fealty to Summer by proxy when she makes her pledge to the Autumn King. Thereafter, she is a member of the Summer Court in both the mystic and the political sense. This isn’t always the case, however. While certainly a more difficult prospect, it isn’t entirely unreasonable that a changeling might enter his or her own pledge directly with the season, in much the same way that the Court founders did when they first created the Great Courts. Such an ordeal likely involves an arduous quest through the Hedge or some similarly significant trial, but it can be done — and changelings who are, for whatever reason, not welcome in polite freehold society have all the more reason to try. Bear this in mind when looking at the statistics for the sample antagonists throughout this section. Just because a ravening privateer is listed as belonging to a Court doesn’t mean he’ll be showing up at the society ball any time soon.

14 Chapter One: Rivals be driven to stack empty bottles in intricate, almost-impossible patterns as a way to ward off the Others, but that is far less a motive for using the character as an antagonist than the fact that his all-consuming fear of being betrayed by the Winter Court leads him to set off crude, homemade explosives in their primary gathering spots. The sort of compulsion that makes a compelling primary motivation for a Changeling chronicle is the sort that directly intersects — and contradicts — with the goals of the characters. A madman who believes that every changeling in the city draws the Others closer and is compelled to murder to push them away or one compelled to destroy all traces of his former life — including friends, family and loved ones — is the type of compelled that makes a chilling antagonist. Shifting Perspectives Most often, the Mad “evolve” into a different classification of antagonist simply by falling in with a group that can accept their unique handicap. Depending on the nature of this new group, it might be beneficial to the Lost, perhaps even serving as the first stepping stone toward rehabilitation, or it might send him spiraling further into the depths of insanity. The chief block to most of the Mad coming into the fold is simply overcoming the ingrained fear and isolation. Even those not primarily motivated by fear tend to have a healthy dose of it, and overcoming that is a huge stumbling block, both for the Mad herself and the members of her new family. Obviously, this process is made much easier if the goals and motives of the group are compatible with the changeling’s own madness. A greedy sociopath out for monetary enrichment and the thrill of the hunt isn’t likely to join a self-sacrificing militia, but might well find a privateer band to his liking. One of the Mad might fall in with a militia, especially if his primary motivation is fear. Not just any fearful lunatic will do, however; those who gravitate toward the militias tend to be those whose fear makes them lash out at those around them. Ogres, Elementals and Wizened are particularly likely to react to their fear in this way, and thus many of the Mad who join up are drawn from these seemings. Greedy changelings might be drawn to the militia if the promise of a soldier’s pay (whether in money, favors or Hedge bounty) catches their eye, but as many militias are strictly volunteer organizations, this is less common. The truly insane and compelled are rarely a good match for the militia as such changelings are frequently unreliable in battle. Unsurprisingly, Fae-worshipers are far from welcome in the militias, and are dealt with brutally whenever they’re found, whether they’re within the ranks or outside them. Bridge-burner cells are more common places for the Mad to end up, and some individual lunatics adopt the ethos without prompting or patronage. Bridge-burners, after all, are generally less rational than even the fanatics among the militias. At least the militias have a concrete, rational goal (however far-fetched it might seem); the bridge-burners’ effort seems Herculean in its scope. Still, that makes it a fine place for the Mad, the compelled and the fearful. The Mad are just deranged enough to think the idea might work, while the compelled are obviously well suited to the obsessive, nigh-endless task of closing off access to the Hedge, and the fearful — well, frightened people will try just about anything to escape the object of their fear. The greedy and the Fae-struck are seldom drawn to the bridgeburners; there’s precious little reward for it, and much as a Mad Fae-worshipper might hate and fear the godlings he venerates, he’s certainly not likely to risk incurring their wrath by trying to shut them out of this world. The Lost find their way into privateering and loyalism more frequently than organized changelings, but still less often than the Lost themselves fall into other organized groups. Obviously, those twisted by worship of the Others are the most likely to take up privateering, but other motivating factors can have the same result. Self-preservation can make an individual do things he would never consider otherwise — a fearful changeling, faced with a choice between a return to his own durance or the betrayal of a fellow Lost, is very likely indeed to sell out his compatriot. A greed-driven serial killer might quite happily trade off the thrill of the kill for the thrill of seeing his victim’s terror when the Gentry come a-calling; the killer’s greed isn’t for monetary compensation but for the sadistic joy that comes with the honing of his craft. The insane follow their own strange whims, and a passing fancy or deep dementia might send one careening into the cruel embrace of the Gentry. Storytelling the Mad The Mad are among the most tragic antagonists a motley might face. While some of the Mad can be called truly wicked, many are simply confused and broken, unable to comprehend what they’re doing or why it’s wrong. Some might be salvageable with time and extensive care; many are so far gone that the only merciful thing to do, for both the Mad and the rest of changeling society, is to put them down as quickly as possible. Mad antagonists are seldom the stuff long-term chronicle villains are made of. The more irrational an antagonist, the less ability to enact long-term schemes he possesses, and some cannot even manage to keep a low profile. For a long-term chronicle, a better option for incorporating the Mad might be the search for a lone madman. The characters are confronted with evidence of his deeds after the fact — whether murder or abduction or some other act inimical to the well-being of the freehold. The chronicle then takes on elements of a police procedural story, although with changelings’ ability to gather clues through dreams and extract binding oaths of truthfulness from suspects, it becomes rather more interesting than the average clue-fest on prime-time TV.

Through a Mirror Darkly: Other Changelings 15 There are exceptions to every rule, of course, and the Mad are, by their very nature, suited to exceptions. When one of the broken and Lost possesses the full command of his faculties and the unhinged psyche of a lunatic, the result can be an absolutely effective and terrifying long-term foe. Think of Hannibal Lector (the version from Silence of the Lambs only, please) or Mr. Croup and Mr. Vandemar from Neverwhere. All three are undeniably insane and would fit under the umbrella of “the Mad” in Changeling: The Lost, and all would be ideally suited as long-term chronicle antagonists, capable of menacing the characters in the physical, social or mental arenas. Above all, when constructing a story around one of the Mad, remember that with the possible exception of an individual changeling’s fetch, a deranged changeling is possibly the closest thing you’ll find to a “dark reflection” of one of your troupe’s characters. Other rogue changelings may be involved in causes the players or their characters might find unconscionable or utterly incomprehensible, but every changeling carries a kernel of madness within her, and along with that comes the recognition that the Mad are only a few short steps down that road. Remind the players subtly of this: maybe the Mad hums a snatch of his favorite song, or mumbles semi-coherently about his mortal life — a life that sounds distressingly similar to the character’s own. Beauty and Her Beast Their names are known in nearly every freehold in the tri-state area, and not in a pleasant way. Beholden to no Court, sworn to no freehold, the Fairest called Damiana and her grotesque companion Bert have carved a bloody swath through nearly a half dozen cities, taking their amusement where they find it. Sometimes that amusement entails pushing the laws of hospitality to the breaking point, upsetting the delicate social balance of the local Lost and then blowing town, leaving chaos in their wake. Other times, it involves using an unsuspecting “townie” as bait to lure one of the Gentry into a brutal ambush in the hopes of killing it. Other, darker rumors paint a more disturbing picture, linking a rash of mysterious deaths and disappearances in various freeholds to the duo’s presence. The origins of this particular odd couple is a mystery — they often tell wildly diverging and contradictory stories of how they met, when they talk about their past at all. In one version, Bert was the hunter sent by Damiana’s Keeper to drag her back to Faerie, only to turn traitor himself when he first laid eyes on her. According to another, Damiana murdered Bert’s Keeper while they were still in Arcadia, and they escaped together. In yet another, they met in a bar in Cincinnati and found each other’s company to their liking. The sheer variety of the stories, and the detail with which they are constructed, indicates a pathological dishonesty that would stun the mortal psychiatric community. Despite the duo’s mercurial habits and flexible approach to the truth, one constant noted by those “lucky” enough to have interacted with these two is the startlingly intense loyalty and devotion Bert shows toward his partner. In one notable instance, verified by the local gossips of the Spring Court, Damiana ran afoul of a cabal of mortal sorcerers who contrived some spell to bind her and cart her off to their laboratory for study. Bert’s subsequent rescue effort resulted in the incineration of four city blocks, 12 deaths (including all five mages) and at least a half million dollars in property damage. For her part, Damiana seems to play to the Ogre’s obvious romantic intentions toward her to ensure that that bond remains firmly cemented. Changelings who have interacted with both, especially those of the Lost with a knack for reading people, have insisted that Bert remains utterly clueless about her manipulation; such knowledge could prove valuable leverage to a changeling looking to drive a wedge between the two. Damiana Quote: “I’m bored. You’re boring. Bert? This person is boring me.” Background: The woman who would become the changeling Damiana was born into a conservative, very religious family in New York in 1937. The first 20 years of her life were spent as a good, Christian girl “should” behave — she learned how to cook and keep house from her mother, never smoked or drank or associated with boys unchaperoned and looked forward to nothing more than being a good wife to one of the local boys around her age and producing lots of fat babies. All that changed in the autumn of ’57. On a family vacation in England (her big brother had been stationed there during World War II and fallen in love with the countryside), she met a gentleman of the finest features and peculiar violet eyes who turned her world with his devilishly enticing smile. His words were honey in her ears, and her lifelong morals vanished like the English morning fog, and with a smile and a song, the Greve of Stolen Lovers bore her away across the Hedge to serve as his concubine. Her name was stripped from her along with her dignity and her virtue, and for two score years and five, she was only Damiana. Damiana escaped at last when her Keeper, growing bored with the limited experiences he could have with a partner of human configuration, began to ignore her in favor of more bizarre experiments in fleshcrafting the “perfect” lover. She found her way back through the Hedge to the last place she remembered from the mortal realm: the English countryside where she had vacationed in her last days with her family. Shortly thereafter, she ran afoul of a band of privateers who took her in chains and would have sold her at the Goblin Market, if not for the timely intervention of an Ogre named Bert. With the privateers dead and nowhere else to go, Damiana latched onto Bert as lifeline and protector. The pair swears no oath to Court or freehold, holding only to their own pledge to each other as they travel the world, just looking for a good time.

16 Chapter One: Rivals Description: Tall and full-figured, Damiana resembles a composite of some of the greatest film goddesses of Hollywood’s golden age: legs like Betty Grable, a figure like Marilyn Monroe, Rita Hayworth’s red hair and Marlene Dietrich’s eyes. Already pretty before her abduction, her time in Faerie sculpted her features into something nearly unearthly. To those who can see through the Mask, she truly is unearthly, shining from within with a cold, clear light. She dresses provocatively, but in archaic styles from the time before her abduction — an anachronism that complements her physical looks. Although she can exhibit poise and grace when she feels so inclined, in her natural state Damiana is restless and often fidgety. Whether it’s bouncing one foot while she sits or twirling the long knives she often carries, Damiana is almost always in some kind of motion. Her moods, likewise, are seldom a constant thing — though she tends to avoid overt displays of anger, Damiana can slide from flirtatiously amused to dangerously bored in the space of a heartbeat. Those who have seen Damiana bored wisely get the hell out of her way; a jaded, bored debutante can be a hell of a lot scarier than a raging Ogre. Storytelling Hints: Twenty years of repression by her religious upbringing followed by 45 years of the most debased carnality has done a number on Damiana’s psyche. Any concept of propriety or social mores has been scoured from her — if it amuses her, she will do it, if it doesn’t, it’s not worth her time. And yet, beneath the jaded libertine lurks the heart of a girl terrified that, one day, all this glorious freedom will be taken away from her again. Her Keeper did it once; the privateers who took her nearly did it again. Virtually the only stimulus that can provoke true rage in Damiana is the threat of being confined or locked up in some way. Often, her companion is the only one who can talk her out of one of these fits. Damiana is fully aware of the romantic feelings Bert has for her, and while she cannot bring herself to reciprocate, she is not above leading him on just enough to keep him with her and keep him loyal to her. Her attitude may seem callous, but in truth she needs Bert as much as he needs her, perhaps more. Along with her pathological terror at being imprisoned again, Damiana has subconsciously latched onto Bert as the only one who can truly keep her safe. This, of course, makes her feel bound to the Ogre, which feeds into her fear of entrapment, which causes her to toy with Bert’s feelings for her like a cat playing with a mouse — the key difference being that the typical mouse doesn’t outweigh the cat by a factor of three to one. Seeming: Fairest Kith: Bright One Court: Courtless Entitlements: None Mental Attributes: Intelligence 2, Wits 3, Resolve 2 Physical Attributes: Strength 1, Dexterity 4, Stamina 2 Social Attributes: Presence 5, Manipulation 4, Composure 2 Mental Skills: Academics 2, Occult (Fae) 2 Physical Skills: Athletics (Contortionist, Dance) 4, Brawl 1, Weaponry (Knives) 3 Social Skills: Empathy 3, Expression 4, Intimidation 1, Persuasion 5, Subterfuge 3 Merits: Barfly 1, Fleet of Foot 3, Striking Looks 4 Willpower: 4 Clarity: 5 Virtue: Hope Vice: Envy Initiative: 5 Defense: 3 Speed: 10 Health: 3 Wyrd: 3 Contracts: Dream ••, Hearth •, Vainglory •••• Pledges: Motley Pledge Glamour/per Turn: 12/3 Weapons/Attacks: Type Damage Range Dice Pool Special Brawl 0(B) — Chance — Knife 1(L) — 5 — Bert Quote: “Is this guy bovverin’ you then, Dams?” Background: Bert’s life in Hackney was a hard one from the get go. Not just because he had the misfortune of being saddled with a stupid, tag-along little brother named Ernie, though God knew that got him beat up more than once in school. Not just because his mum was a smackhead who couldn’t hold a job, though God knew that left him hungry more nights than not. Not even just because he was a little slow in the head and his teachers said he’d never amount to much, though God knew that sent him to bed crying more times than not. No, Bert’s life was just plain hard, and there wasn’t one easy sign you could point to. It was just life, and the only way to beat a hard life like that was to be harder. The boys who picked on him for being one half of “Bert and Ernie” started going home with bloody noses, and soon the teasing stopped. Bert got a job after school, working the docks down by the River Lea, and he stopped going to bed hungry. And as soon as he was old enough, he quit school, and if the teachers didn’t stop saying he’d never make it, at least he didn’t have to hear it. Bert’s memory of his abduction and durance are hazy. He has vague recollections of looking down at the river on the way to work one morning, and seeing reflected in the surface a fleet of strange ships. He remembers hands shoving him and falling toward the river, and then nothing but an interminable period of brutal, backbreaking labor, possibly on one of those strange ships. Then he remembers slip-

Through a Mirror Darkly: Other Changelings 17 ping over the rail, swimming and swimming till he thought his lungs would burst, seaweed and coral tearing at his flesh until at last he surfaced in the icy water of the Thames. He came ashore aching and shivering, only to run across a gang of toughs harassing the prettiest woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Well, that just wouldn’t sit with old Bert, even if the toughs were a weird-looking bunch. He was bigger and stronger than all of them. The Ogre managed to scare off the privateers, and when that pretty lady thanked him and said her name was Damiana, Bert fell in love. Damiana was a Yank, and Bert had had his fill of London, so as soon as they could they hopped a plane to America to raise a little Hell. Description: While not especially large as Ogres go, Bert is still an impressive physical specimen, with the build of a longshoreman and the face of a monster. His skin is a deep orange, covered with coarse, black body hair. Sallow red eyes peer from beneath beetled brows, and his broad, flat nose and prominent tusks give his face a warthog cast. His partner dresses in the high-society style of the 1940s, but Bert tends to wear whatever is sturdy enough to hold up and keep him warm — denim work shirts, thick trousers and steeltoed boots are his usual garb of choice. He speaks with a thick, decidedly lower-class London accent, and sometimes when it suits his fancy, he enjoys confusing the Americans by making up nonsensical expressions of “Cockney slang.” Storytelling Hints: Where Damiana is the wild, mercurial one of the pair, Bert is a steady, plodding monstrosity. Having lived through two lifetimes of abuse (once as a child and again as a galley slave in Faerie), the bully mentality is firmly ensconced in him. He takes a certain pleasure in showing just how tough he is (especially to those weaker than he), but his real motivation is Damiana’s happiness. The Ogre has been utterly smitten with the Bright One since he laid eyes on her, and follows her lead in all things. He occasionally reins her in when she looks to be getting herself into trouble he can’t get her out of, but usually he’s content to let her run the show. Although he sometimes plays the fool, Bert is entirely aware that Damiana could never feel for him the way he feels for her. To some extent, he’s made his peace with that, loving and protecting her in his own way, but any handsome young rake who catches Damiana’s eye would do well to keep an eye on her hulking, quiet companion.

18 Chapter One: Rivals Fightin g Style: Brute Force This Fighting Style Merit was originally presented in the Strange Alchemies sourcebook for Promethean: The Created. See p. 57 of that book for a full accounting, but in brief, Bert’s three dots in the Fighting Style allow him to perform the following maneuvers: • Falling Pillar: By spending a Willpower point, Bert may gain 9 again on a Brawl attack. This expenditure does not add the usual three dice to his dice pool, and he must have both hands free to use the maneuver. •• Crush and Bite: When Bert makes a Strength + Brawl roll to damage a grappled opponent, the damage is lethal instead of bashing. ••• Juggernaut: When making an unarmed all-out attack, Bert gains a +4 bonus to his dice pool instead of the usual +2. All of the standard restrictions and drawbacks of the all-out attack apply. If the attack fails, he loses a single point of Willpower. Seeming: Ogre Kith: Water-Dweller Court: Courtless Entitlements: None Mental Attributes: Intelligence 1, Wits 2, Resolve 4 Physical Attributes: Strength 5, Dexterity 2, Stamina 4 Social Attributes: Presence 3, Manipulation 1, Composure 2 Mental Skills: Investigation 2, Medicine (First Aid) 3 Physical Skills: Athletics (Swimming) 2, Brawl (Dirty Tricks) 4, Firearms 2, Larceny 1, Weaponry (Improvised) 2 Social Skills: Animal Ken 1, Intimidation 3, Streetwise (Docks) 3 Merits: Giant 4, Fighting Style: Brute Force 3 Willpower: 6 Clarity: 5 Virtue: Charity Vice: Wrath Initiative: 4 Defense: 2 Speed: 12 Health: 10 Wyrd: 2 Contracts: Elements (Water) ••, Fang and Talon (Fish) ••, Stone ••• Pledges: Motley Pledge Glamour/per Turn: 11/2 Weapons/Attacks: Type Damage Range Dice Pool Special Brawl 0(B) — 9 — Crowbar 2(B) —­ 8 — The King of Cats Quote: “Hello, little mouse.” Background: Every city has them: feral cats roam the streets and back alleys, their presence a ubiquitous part of the background tapestry of city life. In the United States alone, between 20 and 40 million “domestic” cats eke out what existence they can, distant memories of divinity lurking in their feline hearts. Few people even notice their presence, and fewer still remember them after their paths cross. But the cats are there, and they have their king. He goes by many names: Tybalt or Old Tim or Tom Tildrum as the fancy strikes him. The Lost of the Great Courts avoid him, even his so-called brethren in the Autumn Court. Whatever bargain he struck with the season was struck on his own terms, one the Leaden Mirror had no part in. He prowls the back alleys and slums of the city, sometimes in the form of a feral tabby the size of a large dog, other times in the form of a ragged, wild-eyed homeless man, but always with his train of faithful feline retainers. Children in the neighborhood tell tales of the monster cat that will eat you up if he finds you; your only hope of survival to run to the nearest church and scratch your initials on the wall with an old nail. The wisest of the local kids carry a nail in their pockets as a good luck charm, but a few still go missing every month. Of course, children go missing in places like this for many different reasons — parental abductions, runaways and indiscriminate gang violence are rampant. The high incidence of missing children probably isn’t all the work of the King of Cats. Probably. Description: The King of Cats most often appears in animal form through the use of the Fang and Talon ••••• Contract, Cloak of the Bear’s Massive Form. In this guise, the King is a huge feral cat, easily the size of a bobcat or similar wildcat. His tabby coat is ratty and mangy, showing signs of poor nutrition and disease, and he bears the scars of countless back-alley fights. One ear is tattered and half-torn, gaps in the fur on his flanks show shiny, puckered scars and at least one open wound bears testament to recent battle (this suppurating wound is actually a part of his mien, not an actual injury). His bright green eyes gleam with a cruel intelligence, and have a tendency to glow even in absolute darkness. In his natural form, the King is a bedraggled, wildbearded man who dresses in the torn and filthy layers common among the homeless. His eyes, though, are the same bright and feral green as his feline form. To those with eyes to see, his mien is much the same, save for the vertically

Through a Mirror Darkly: Other Changelings 19 slitted pupils and constantly swiveling, triangular ears. His garments, in the eyes of the fae, resemble threadbare finery in a mockery of the garb of royalty: robes of stained satin and velvet, with a fur stole of dubious, probably feline, origin. The Mantle of Autumn hangs about him, creating an air of dread stillness that heralds his coming. In either form, the good King is always accompanied by a group of stray cats, anywhere from a dozen to upwards of 30, depending on the occasion. Storytelling Hints: The King of Cats makes an excellent antagonist early on in a chronicle, when the characters are still finding their place in the society of the Lost. Although no slouch in a fight, the King’s solitary nature and feline proclivities make him better suited for a game of (pardon the expression) cat and mouse through the back alleys and bad neighborhoods of the city. Perhaps the motley learns of the strange disappearances of children in the King’s territory, or perhaps one of the victims is a loved one, prompting the motley to do something about this Mad changeling. The King of Cats surely has a motivation for hunting children who cross his path, but what that motive is has been left deliberately vague to allow you to use him in whatever capacity you prefer. Perhaps the King is simply a mad cannibal, so lost in his own delusions that he literally sees children (and anything smaller than himself, for that matter) as mice to be preyed upon. Maybe he’s actually a privateer, and the children he takes end up not in his belly, but in the clutches of the Gentry. Or maybe he is following the dictates of a prophetic dream, crafting some strange, ramshackle artifact out of bones and hair and skin that will release some terrible sorcery on the world. Of course, madness aside, the King’s loyal “subjects” see much that goes on in the city with no one the wiser. If the motley can get past his madness and paranoia, the King of Cats might prove a useful source of intelligence if the price is right. Seeming: Beast Kith: Hunterheart Court: Courtless Entitlements: None Mental Attributes: Intelligence 3, Wits 4, Resolve 1 Physical Attributes: Strength 2, Dexterity 4, Stamina 4 Social Attributes: Presence 4, Manipulation 1, Composure 2 Mental Skills: Investigation (Tracking) 5, Occult (Local Legends) 1 Physical Skills: Athletics (Climbing) 2, Brawl (Claws) 2, Larceny 1, Stealth 4, Survival (Urban) 3 Social Skills: Animal Ken (Cats) 4, Intimidation 1, Streetwise 4 Merits: Common Sense 4, Direction Sense 1, Danger Sense 2, Fast Reflexes 1, Iron Stamina 1 Willpower: 3 Clarity: 4 Virtue: Faith Vice: Gluttony Initiative: 8 Defense: 4 Speed: 11 Health: 9 Wyrd: 6 (Minor taboo: Cannot harm children who scratch their initials onto a wall or fence on sanctified ground) Contracts: Fang and Talon (Felines) •••••, Hearth •••, Smoke •• Pledges: None Glamour/per Turn: 15/6 Weapons/Attacks: Type Damage Range Dice Pool Special Claws 0(L) — 5 —

20 Chapter One: Rivals The Glutton Quote: “And don’t you look tasty today.” Background: Somewhere in the Hedge on the outskirts of Miami, there is a Hollow. Gnawed out of the briars and the saw grass, this clearing is mostly empty, save for the shelves upon shelves of strange, alien foodstuffs: vile goblin fruits most changelings would deem inedible, cuts of meat from creatures best left unidentified and bizarre spices and flavorings rumored to come from Faerie itself. The local Courts warn their newer members to avoid this “Pantry” like the Gentry themselves, for its owner is an unpredictable, potentially dangerous Gristlegrinder known only as “the Glutton.” The great brute swears no oath to Court, motley or freehold, and indeed seems to live in the Hedge. Certainly he has never been seen beyond its borders by any reliable witnesses. The Glutton spent his durance as the kitchen slave of an especially vile member of the Gentry, and during his enslavement, the Glutton picked up his Keeper’s epicurean peculiarities — including a taste for human and changeling flesh. When the Glutton escaped back to the mortal realm, the Ogre found that earthly food had become bland and tasteless for him. His hunting trips into the Hedge grew more and more frequent, until eventually he simply withdrew from changeling society altogether and began living entirely within the Hedge. The isolation has since driven him quite mad (although it’s debatable how sane he was to begin with), and today, the changelings of Miami know that they cross into the Hedge west of the Miami River and north of 19th Street at their peril. Many trods in the area lead into the Pantry, but only one leads out again, and one can never be sure when the Glutton will be home. Description: The Glutton is a hideous, immensely fat brute of an Ogre, with greenish-brown skin like fouled swamp water. Cracked yellow teeth like old, weathered stones jut at all angles from a mouth far too big for his face, and beady, sunken orange eyes glimmer beneath heavy brows, especially when he talks about (or looks at a visitor as) food. His clothes are filthy and well-worn, and often several sizes too small for him. If a hapless changeling has not wandered into the Glutton’s Hollow for some time, his clothes may be disintegrated to the point of being little more than rags and thread. No changeling alive knows what the Glutton’s mortal guise might look like, as he never leaves the Hedge. When encountered in his Hollow, the Glutton is very likely in the midst of preparing some vile dish, most typically a stew made from the strange meats and fruits from the Hedge’s native flora and fauna. He makes frequent expeditions into the Hedge to forage for food, however, and is just as likely to be found on one of the old, overgrown trods that crisscross the Hedge near his home. His reaction to travelers can vary widely, from a cordial dinner invitation and conversation to a wordless attempt to kill, clean and cook the interloper. Of small comfort to those unlucky enough to meet him is that his reaction seldom changes mid-encounter; what you get when you first meet him is usually what you’re stuck with. Storytelling Hints: The Glutton is an immensely powerful changeling as far as brute strength goes. For a group of advanced characters with a penchant for brawling, he can make for an epic battle, but he is perhaps more interesting when used as a social or mental challenge. The Glutton is a truly lonely being, and if he’s encountered in a talkative mood, the troupe has a chance to avoid ending up in the stew pot by providing companionship for a time. As the story of the Glutton’s encounter with Jack Tallow in Changeling: The Lost illustrates, the Glutton’s revolting personal habits and culinary stylings can make even the most silver-tongued of changelings feel queasy and off-balance. Add to that the constant, looming threat of being eaten, and you have the makings of a scene that will have the players squirming in their seats — especially if the Glutton is fully capable of devouring them all without breaking a sweat and the players are fully aware of that fact. The Glutton works best as a hazard encountered in the Hedge. He lacks the ambition or connections to changeling society to be a primary antagonist, and he is too stubborn and independent-minded to willingly serve as another’s lackey. Still, with a few small tweaks, he can be woven into a larger plot easily enough. Perhaps his taste cannot be entirely satisfied by the bounty of the Hedge, and he has made a bargain with a minor lord of the Others to provide es-

Through a Mirror Darkly: Other Changelings 21 caped changelings (or even abducted mortals) in return for exotic ingredients harvested from Faerie, or maybe a push by Rose Thorne to establish a toehold in Miami runs afoul of territory the Glutton sees as “his.” Seeming: Ogre Kith: Gristlegrinder Court: Courtless Entitlements: None Mental Attributes: Intelligence 2, Wits 1, Resolve 3 Physical Attributes: Strength 4, Dexterity 1, Stamina 5 Social Attributes: Presence 3, Manipulation 1, Composure 3 Mental Skills: Craft (Cooking) 3, Medicine 2, Occult (Hedge) 3 Physical Skills: Athletics 1, Brawl (Biting) 4, Stealth 1, Survival (Hedge) 3, Weaponry 2 Social Skills: Intimidation 4, Socialize 1 Merits: Hollow (Size 2, Amenities 3, Doors 4) 9, Iron Stomach 2, Natural Immunity 1 Willpower: 6 Clarity: 2 Virtue: Charity Vice: Gluttony Initiative: 4 Defense: 1 Speed: 10 Health: 10 Wyrd: 3 Contracts: Dream •••, Stone •••• Pledges: None Glamour/per Turn: 12/3 Weapons/Attacks: Type Damage Range Dice Pool Special Brawl 0(B) — 8 — Bite 1(L) — 10 — The Hag of Henslowe Park Quote: “Tell me your troubles, I’ll whisk them away/And then you’ll be mine, love, a year and a day.” Background: The legend goes that, once upon a time, an old woman lived alone in a cottage on the edge of town, in what is now Henslowe Park. She was a very cruel old woman, and she kept a small, black cat that she abused most horribly. The whole town lived in fear of the old hag: mothers would lock their children indoors when she made her monthly trip into town to buy groceries, and fathers would cross the street just to avoid walking in her shadow. Teenagers dared each other to sneak into the woods and skulk as close to the cottage as they dared without being seen, and many brought back stories of bright, sad eyes, watching them from the window. At length, the old woman fell ill, and she knew she was not long for the world. As she lay on her deathbed, her poor, long-suffering cat leapt up onto her chest and spoke to her. “You are a sad, wicked old woman,” it said, “and your heart is as cold as the river in winter. All your life, I have kept you company when no other would, and you have repaid me only in cruelty. As I always repay in kind, now you shall come to live in my palace as my pet, and you shall know what cruelty is. And as you have kept me here for four and twenty years, so shall I keep you for four and twenty.” And then the cat sucked out her breath and the old woman died, but she did not go on to her final reward; the cat brought her to his palace in a faraway land, and for four and 20 years he kept her as cruelly as she kept him, but the old woman was a tough and heartless old thing, and she ate every sorrow and every abuse the cat heaped on her. True to his word, when her allotted time was up, the cat turned her out, and the old woman — now an ancient, withered crone — crawled back through the thorny forests to her little cottage. If you believe the legend, she still haunts the ramshackle old cabin out there in Henslowe Park, and if you go there on a night when the air is cold and the moon is bright, and if you leave a needle wrapped in black silk thread in the ashes of the hearth and whisper the source of your worries three times, the hag will eat your sorrows, too, and for a year and a day, they will trouble you no more. But the legend also warns that when the year and a day is up, the Hag comes for you and takes you away to her hidden home in the thorny forest, where you must serve her for a year and a day. If you were kind and generous to others in life, the Hag treats you well enough, but if you were cruel or heartless, your durance is far less pleasant. Description: The story above is true enough, as such things go. There was a cruel old woman in a cottage, and there was a talking cat who took her away for four and 20 years, but the old woman did not die; she was taken by one of the Gentry in the form of a cat, and her time in Faerie twisted her into something else. She spends most of her time in her Hollow now, just off the trod that connects to the front door of her cottage, emerging only to collect those poor souls who make a pledge on her Promise Stone (see the sidebar on p. 22). She appears as a thin, desiccated woman made of loose bundles of sticks, with twigs for fingers and rotted autumn leaves for hair. Her mortal Mask epitomizes the stereotype of the “wicked old witch”: sallow, pinched cheeks, sharp features and watery green eyes that seem locked in a perpetual glare. The Hag keeps a spacious Hollow, large enough to comfortably house herself and up to five banded mortals (typically anywhere from one to three hapless souls are trapped there; the popularity of the legend has faded in recent years); these unfortunates, subject to the debilitating effects of the Hedge on Morality (see Changeling: The Lost, p. 220) and fed on a diet of strange goblin fruits, quickly become degenerate wretches barely recognizable as human. Those treated “well” by the Hag may look marginally better-kept, but within a few months even the best-treated of them are too far gone to save.

22 Chapter One: Rivals Storytelling Hints: The Hag of Henslowe Park makes an excellent mystery antagonist. A motley might be drawn in by a rash of disappearances among young people, or the characters might trace a series of brutal killings back to a luckless mortal released at the conclusion of his year and a day. The Lost may well assume that a rash of disappearances is symptomatic of the Others operating in the area; that’s fine, it will make it all the more shocking and horrific when they realize the abductor is one of their own. The motley might try to defeat the Hag of Henslowe Park in a physical confrontation (which might be more difficult than it appears; the Hag is quite adept at Hedge Dueling and oneiromachy), or the characters might try to find the catch in the pledge that will allow a bound loved one to escape a hellish year in the Hag’s Hollow. Extensive time in the Hedge, coupled with the repeated abduction and abuse of mortals, has left the Hag of Henslowe Park quite mad. Her extremely low Clarity leaves her prone to hallucinations, and much as the Others, she is incapable of understanding anything outside the context of her pledges. Appeals to mercy or love or familial bonds mean nothing to her now (granted, it’s unlikely they would have meant much to the old witch when she was still mortal), and no act of persuasion will stay her from collecting her due. The pledge bound into the Hag’s Promise Stone is as follows: Type: Vow Tasks: Dreaming (–2, the Hag removes the mortal’s stated worry from his dreams); Endeavor, Lesser (–1, the mortal must, at the end of the year and a day, return to thank the Hag); Forbiddance, Greater (–3, the Hag may not leave her Hollow save to fetch away an oathbreaker); Ensorcelment (–2) Boons: Blessing, Medial (+2, the mortal gains a threeor four-dot Merit that alleviates his worry; e.g., Resources for money woes, Allies for loneliness, Encyclopedic Knowledge for academic fears); Ensorcelment (+2); Glamour (+2) New Token: Promise Stone (••••) This small, worn stone, etched with Fae runes of binding and sincerity, allows a changeling to invest a single pledge into the stone itself; thereafter, another party may “swear herself in” by performing a specified ritual (determined when the owner of the stone sets the pledge) over the stone. The stone’s owner specifies all conditions of the pledge when he invests it into the Promise Stone, but is not bound by the pledge unless and until another swears himself in. Once the vow is active, it functions exactly as though the two individuals had entered into the pledge directly with each other. All pledges sworn into the Promise Stone are considered vows. Multiple individuals may swear themselves into the same Promise Stone, exactly as though the stone’s owner had entered into a pledge with each individual; the owner’s limit on vows (Wyrd + 3) still applies. Action: Instant Mien: The stone appears worn smooth as though by inconceivable age. The carvings on it may occasionally shift or ooze blood. Drawback: Setting a pledge into the Promise Stone requires the expenditure of a dot of Willpower, which may be bought back for eight experience points. This expenditure anchors the pledge as well as tying it to the ritual that activates the pledge. The good news is that the owner of the stone does not have to pay a Willpower point when someone invokes the pledge (the party swearing in, however, must). The owner regains this Willpower dot (or the eight experience points) if another changeling activates the Promise Stone and sets another pledge into it. The owner does not regain his lost Willpower or experience points if he himself places a new pledge in the stone (and indeed must spend another Willpower dot). If any pledges sworn on the stone are still active when the owner places a new pledge in the stone, he suffers all sanctions and penalties as an oathbreaker. Likewise, if the second party involved sets a new pledge, he is the oathbreaker. If another acquires the stone and replaces the pledge, the old pledge is voided; it is no longer in effect, but neither party is an oathbreaker. The owner of the Promise Stone cannot refuse a pledge invoked by the Promise Stone. Anyone who performs the ritual is bound into the pledge automatically, whether the owner likes it or not. Conversely, the person swearing in need not be apprised of all the provisions of the pledge, or even that his action will bind him into a mystical pledge at all. Catch: Any character, even one without a Wyrd rating, may bind a pledge into a Promise Stone by paying a dread cost. Once the parameters of the pledge have been spoken aloud and spent, the character must tear out his own tongue by the root and cast it into a fire (inflicting two points of lethal damage). A character with no Wyrd may have up to three pledges active at a time through the Promise Stone.

Through a Mirror Darkly: Other Changelings 23 Sanctions: Abduction (+3, as Banishment, but the Hag carries off the mortal to her Hollow); Poisoning of the Boon (+2, Glamour) Duration: Year and a Day (–3) Note that the lesser endeavor required by the mortal is not spread as part of the legend of the Hag of Henslowe Park; the breaking of that task is what actually allows the Hag to carry off a bound mortal at the end of the year and a day. Seeming: Wizened Kith: Oracle Court: Autumn Entitlements: Scarecrow Ministry Mental Attributes: Intelligence 4, Wits 4, Resolve 2 Physical Attributes: Strength 1, Dexterity 3, Stamina 1 Social Attributes: Presence 3, Manipulation 4, Composure 3 Mental Skills: Academics 3, Craft 2, Occult (Pledge-lore) 4 Physical Skills: Brawl 1, Larceny 1, Stealth (Lurking) 3, Survival (Hedge) 3, Weaponry (Club) 1 Social Skills: Empathy 4, Expression 1, Intimidation 2, Persuasion 3, Subterfuge 4 Merits: Hollow (Size 1, Amenities 2, Doors 1, Security 3) 7, Mantle 4, Retainer 3, Token 4 Willpower: 5 Clarity: 3 Virtue: Justice Vice: Envy Initiative: 7 Defense: 3 Speed: 9 Health: 6 Wyrd: 5 Contracts: Artifice •••, Dream •••••, Eternal Autumn ••••, Fleeting Autumn •• Pledges: At any time, the Hag typically has from one to three active pledges from her Promise Stone, as described above. Glamour/per Turn: 14/5 Weapons/Attacks: Type Damage Range Dice Pool Special Brawl 0(B) — 2 — Cane 2(B) — 3 — The Roaring Gangs’ Bravado Not all rogue changelings that might come into conflict with a motley are isolated madmen. Organized militias stand on the fringe of the freehold, willing to make any sacrifice and pay any price to beat the Others back. Bridge-burners infiltrate the Courts, seeking knowledge of the places where the Hedge runs especially close to the mortal realm and eagerly seeking any opportunity to sever those connections. And, of course, privateer bands and loyalist Gathers lurk in the Hedge, ready to snap up wayward changelings and deliver them in chains to the merchants of the Goblin Markets, or worse, to the Gentry themselves. Where a lone antagonist can be overwhelmed by a motley of characters working together and complementing each others’ weaknesses, an organized group of foes might match or even outnumber the characters. Bound to one another by strong pledges, deep loyalty and conviction (however misguided it may be), these changelings can be foes every bit as dangerous as the Others. Militias and Bridge-burners Humans are social, communal creatures at their core, and the Lost share that nature. Coming together for mutual defense is very much a human reaction to danger, and this sets them above the Others, or so say the Lost called militiamen and bridge-burners. The Gentry may war against each other, and their Courts may be seething hotbeds of shifting alliances and betrayals, but that’s all it is: the True Fae understand alliance and treachery, but not the simple act of standing shoulder to shoulder with your neighbor in defense against a common foe. That, these groups argue, is the true source of their strength, not weapons or Contracts. Surely there must be some merit to that theory — after all, isn’t the

24 Chapter One: Rivals Summer Court almost entirely founded on that principle? And yet the Iron Spear is accepted as an established part of changeling society, while militia groups and bridge-burners are marginalized and regarded as dangerous fringe elements. The groups themselves often decry this as blatant cronyism and an example of the hegemony of the Courts. But in most cases, the truth is that the militias are rejected by the majority of changelings not out of some Court-based elitism, but because most militias give new meaning to the word “extremist.” Just as a mortal freedom fighter crosses the line into “terrorist” when he decides that innocent civilians are valid targets in the pursuit of his agenda, a warrior against the Others crosses into fanatic territory when she decides that using other changelings as expendable pawns, willing or otherwise, is an acceptable tactic in her war against the Others. Likewise, when one actively seeks to destroy a vital (albeit admittedly dangerous) resource such as the Hedge with no regard for the lives or property of one’s fellow Lost, one has left the territory of the rational and entered the realm of extremism. The fanaticism of militiamen can have many roots, but the most common thread is a desire to assert the control they never had during their durance. Changelings drawn to the militias are often those who were fiercely independent in their mortal lives: activists, survivalists and revolutionaries. Faced with the gripping fear of a forcible return to that slavery and lack of control, it’s small wonder that more than a few Lost are willing to murder, maim and destroy anything they perceive as a threat to their newly regained liberty. Motivation Though they may not like to admit it, most militiamen and bridge-burners are motivated by fear. Fear is the emotion that prompts extreme reactions, perhaps more than any other — love may have launched a thousand ships, but fear has launched a thousand crusades and a thousand inquisitions. Fear has brought the mortal world to the very brink of destruction, so it is perhaps understandable that fear can drive a changeling to take the fight to the Gentry by any means necessary, or to take on the seemingly impossible task of sealing off the Hedge. While fear of the Others might be the force that drives most changelings to fanaticism, many lesser fears hold them there. Whether it’s fear of being alone (particularly common amongst the solitary Mad who find a place for themselves in the militia), fear of reprisals from other members or simply fear of the loss of a group identity, the subtle chains of terror conspire to hold many changelings fast to their fanatical brethren. The madness that motivates a changeling to join a militia or bridge-burner cell is of a different sort than that which drives the solitary killers and lunatics among the Lost. The madness of these groups is the madness of the zealot, of the one so sure of the rightness of his cause that morality (or Clarity, in the case of the Lost) ceases to be an issue. Militias sometimes harbor the truly depraved, often as a last-resort tool kept in reserve for especially dirty jobs, but zealotry drives the concept of the militia. This madness can take many forms, from the radical rabblerousing of the most ardent protest groups to the cold, grim determination of the soldier who never questions his orders, no matter how heinous. Mad fanatics are particularly dangerous in that they are more likely to employ terror tactics not just directly in opposition to the Others or in the pursuit of destroying Hedge gates but to achieve ancillary goals as well. If the seasonal monarch speaks out against the group’s activities, the true zealot sees no sin in engineering an assassination. If a particularly volatile gate into the Hedge lies in a particular club, it’s worth the sacrifice of a few hundred innocent lives to take them all out with a single bomb blast. If the freehold as a whole seems to be growing complacent toward the threat of the Others, an extremist might even commit attacks or abductions deliberately designed to implicate the True Fae. As much as the leadership of these groups might not like to admit it, their members are far from universally dedicated to the destruction of the Others or the Hedge for its own sake. Political agitators, mercenaries and others driven by the less-scrupulous motive of greed are drawn to militias for the simple reason that violence has always been the one sure way to take things you want away from the people that have them. No institution is safe from those who would subvert it to their own gain; larger, more established militias tend to draw this sort of changeling more than the smaller groups, and yet at the same time, the larger militias have less pressing need for manpower and tend to be better at weeding out the false believers. The net result is that the greed-driven are more or less evenly spread across militias of all sizes and make-ups. Among bridge-burner cells, greed is even more common: after all, it’s easy to just discreetly pocket valuable tokens, rare goblin fruits or even the keys to certain gateways and claim they were “destroyed for the cause.” When these Lost rise to positions of authority within their groups, these changelings might be the most likely to draw the characters into conflict with a militia. Other militia leaders are likely to become antagonists if the motley directly stands athwart their goals, but a greedy changeling might falsely portray the characters as Fae collaborators for no other reason than covetousness. For obvious reasons, few if any true militia members are motivated by worship of the Others. That’s not to say, though, that the Others don’t have their agents within such groups. Whether because it amuses them or because they find the militias and bridge-burners a genuine cause for concern, the Gentry sometimes direct one of their servants to infiltrate the more radical groups. Such agents must tread with extreme caution; if there’s one thing militiamen hate more than the True Fae, it’s changelings who knowingly and willingly collaborate with them. Stories abound of the grisly ends to which militias put collaborators: crushing the limbs off with a dull-edged iron axe, drawing and quartering behind muscle cars and slow, painful death by exposure to

Through a Mirror Darkly: Other Changelings 25 banes are all popular methods of execution. Bridge-burner cells often favor burning alive — preferably accompanied by some form of magic to ensure that the traitor is not rendered unconscious by smoke inhalation. Most Fae-worshippers who infiltrate an extremist group try to spend as little time there as possible. Better to get in, get some valuable intelligence on the cell’s activities and get the hell out again than try to remain a long-term sleeper agent and end up a severed head on an iron spike as a warning to others. Changelings motivated by compulsions seldom find their way into fanatical groups as proper members — commanders look for soldiers who are reliable in battle and calculating in their schemes, not thundering loonies who might start fighting foes that aren’t there or stop in the middle of a pitched battle to eat a fallen foe. Occasionally, though, a commander finds it useful to have access to individuals with a peculiar quirk. Sometimes these compulsives are used as bait to draw the Others into an ambush; other times they may be manipulated into resolving certain situations without directly implicating the militia. Bridge-burners occasionally employ these single-minded Lost for suicide missions. Such wretches are rarely actual members; most are counted among the Mad and are prodded or bribed in some fashion to serve the militias interests. Mustering Out A militiaman might abandon his calling and become one of the Mad as the Clarity-punishing acts he is required to perform erode his ability to think rationally. Those veterans who give not only their lives, but their very sanity, are often honored and respected by remaining members of their group; even when such veterans reach states of extreme degeneration, there is often a loose, informal network of members who take it upon themselves to look after their infirm brethren. Any motley unfortunate enough to bring harm to a veteran is likely to draw the wrath of the veteran’s former comrades-in-arms. Militiamen and bridge-burners who survive battles in which their entire motley is entirely wiped out — or worse, their entire militia — are likely to suffer an erosion of sanity and may drift into madness. Likewise, militiamen who suffer grievous defeats or major setbacks may decide that their cause is, ultimately, futile. The Gentry are too strong to fight directly, no matter how many soldiers you throw at them. Such changelings may leave their group in favor of the bridge-burners, rationalizing that if the Others cannot be defeated, the next best thing is to lock them out of the world. It is a very rare thing for a militiaman to give himself over to the True Fae and become a loyalist, although the same situations that might inspire one changeling to join the bridge-burners might inspire one of lesser moral character to join what he perceives as the winning side. Former militiamen becoming privateers is slightly more likely, especially among changelings motivated more by personal gain than by true belief in the war against the Others. Storytelling Fanatics At times, it can be hard to draw the line between a fanatic group and the Summer Court. Both are, after all, dedicated to taking the fight to the Others in one way or another, and many militia members belong, formally or informally, to the Iron Spear. While this book draws an artificial distinction at the point of “willingness to employ extremist or terrorist tactics” in order to define militias and bridge-burners as antagonists, it’s not always so easy to see the delineation for a Changeling character looking at things from ground level. After all, some militiamen are (or at least seem to be on the surface) rational, sane individuals with a deep commitment to a goal, and some members of the Summer Court aren’t above drumming up a “crusade against the Others” as a way to thin the herd of political rivals. The truth of the matter is that, in some freeholds at least, there may be no difference between “the warriors of the Summer Court” and “those crazy extremist bastards.” For every motley of fanatical survivalists living on a fortified compound, somewhere there’s an urbane, sophisticated group of radicals thoroughly integrated into the Great Courts. For every fringe organization denounced (and possibly even hunted) by the Iron Spear, there’s a freehold where the lunatics have taken over the proverbial asylum. The bottom line is this: don’t feel forced into portraying the Summer Court as the “good guy” warriors against the Others and the militias as the “bad guys.” If it suits your chronicle to have the Summer Court in your freehold made up of extremists and terrorists, go for it (just be aware of the impact it might have on your players’ characters and their choice of Court). The Red Badge In most freeholds, the Great Courts are far and away the largest and most influential organizations among the Lost. Certainly, some smaller groups may exist — gangs of Courtless who band together for protection, cults that gather to venerate some power that may keep the Others at bay, and the like — but by and large the seasonal Court is the only game in town. Every once in a while, though, an organization similar to the Red Badge comes along and throws the whole thing out of joint. Founded five years ago by the Ogre Billy Blood, the Badge quickly became one of the largest and most powerful militia groups in the state, with something close to 50 members drawn from all four Courts. Unlike many militia groups, which operate covertly in small cells of three to a dozen members, the Red Badge makes a point of showing off its full strength. Members are expected to wear the band’s symbol (a Hedgespun accessory worn on the head — a hat, scarf, pair of glasses, etc.—that seeps fresh blood) at all times, especially when interacting with other changelings. “Badgers,” as they refer to themselves, tend to stay out of freehold politics save in matters of defense or justice, but when they do get involved, they almost always throw their weight around in a bloc, even if it means going against their Court.

26 Chapter One: Rivals That the Red Badge’s policies tend toward the extremist would be understating things; even the merest hint of the Others’ presence will see the Badge calling for a mass sweepand-clear operation, throwing as many able-bodied warriors at the enemy as possible, no matter the cost. Likewise, allegations of collaboration with the Gentry provokes immediate and extreme action from the Badge’s hardliners. More than one innocent changeling has been lynched by overzealous Badgers for no more than being seen talking to the wrong merchant at a Goblin Market or a rumor spread by a rival. The Red Badge in the City As written here, the Red Badge fits best into a chronicle set somewhere with large, open areas of sparse habitation where a large paramilitary compound could exist; the American Midwest, for example, or a Colombian city bordering on the rainforest. With a little bit of reworking, though, the Badge can just as easily fit into a heavily urbanized area. Replace the rural compound with a heavily fortified block of innercity apartment buildings, downplay the survivalist motif in favor of a structure akin to a street gang, and you can easily drop the Red Badge into the most urban settings. The militia is headquartered on a 75-acre compound about an hour’s drive from the nearest city, securely bordered and constantly guarded. Only one road grants access to the compound, and the gate is monitored 24/7 by mundane and magical security. Rumor persists that there is a single trod that leads into the compound, and that the area around that egress is a literal deathtrap. Stories vary, from sentries armed with cold iron to land mines and machine gun turrets ready to obliterate anyone coming out of the Hedge, Other or not. Exactly what the Badgers are up to out there on their compound is the subject of much speculation, but what is known is that Billy and his people have been stockpiling weapons for years, everything from guns and ammo to powerful tokens to battle-ready blades of cold iron. Recruitment drives are on the rise as well. Scarcely a gathering of the Lost occurs these days without one of the Red Badge in full martial regalia extolling the virtues of bringing the fight to the Gentry to any who would listen. Whatever the Badgers are planning, it seems to be ramping up in a hurry. Red Badge Recruiter Quote: “Now, son, you and I both know the Others ain’t forgot about us. Wouldn’t you rather be prepared when they come back?” Background: The Red Badge recruiter is cut from different cloth than the typical militiaman. While no less a capable warrior, the recruiter recognizes that his greatest talent lies in his passion for the cause and his ability to stoke that same passion in others. The recruiter spends most of his time moving amongst the greater society of the freehold; he knows all the safe havens and hangouts where the Lost gather in numbers, and he’s always there, never preaching or press-ganging, just passionately extolling the virtues of the warrior’s way of life and the honor and fraternity of the Red Badge. Description: Before he was taken, the recruiter filled the same duty for the United States Marine Corps, and the patriotic zeal he took from his tours of duty in Vietnam remains even after 40 years spent as a pit fighter in the bloody arenas of Faerie. He still dresses in Marine surplus clothes Story Hooks: The Red Badge • A motley of changelings traveling from another freehold in the area has disappeared, and their route took them very close to the Red Badge’s compound. The Courts of the missing changelings’ home freehold are certain the Badge killed them, but the Summer King of the local freehold is allied with the Red Badge and is stalling any investigation. Was it the Red Badge that killed the lost motley, or was it something else on the road? Did the victims see something they weren’t supposed to see in the compound? • One of the motley’s allies (preferably a lover or close friend of one of the characters) has been accused of “consorting with the enemy” by the Red Badge. Some of the more enthusiastic Badgers have already attacked the suspect and beaten her badly enough to put her in the hospital. The characters must now split their efforts between finding out who accused their friend and why, proving the accusations false and preventing the Badge from coming back to finish the job. But what happens when the evidence starts to suggest that maybe the accusations aren’t false after all? • A Courtless renegade appears at court and claims to be a refugee from the Red Badge. According to her story, the Badgers are doing far more than simply stockpiling for a war; they are actually trying to create new foot soldiers. Red Badge sorcerers have been abducting mortals from isolated, outlying areas, then abandoning them in the Hedge in an attempt to warp them into something akin to changelings. The renegade says she has proof of this atrocity, but will only hand it over if she is guaranteed protection from her erstwhile comrades.

Through a Mirror Darkly: Other Changelings 27 most of the time, and when occasion calls for formal wear, he pulls his old dress blues out of storage and wears them with pride. Already a big man before his abduction, the recruiter’s durance made him into a true giant: he stands nearly seven and a half feet tall and weighs as much as some small European automobiles. Mortals see him as a huge, bald black man with a face that would do a bare-knuckle boxer proud. Those who see beyond the Mask see a brute with skin of polished ebony, jutting tusks and eyes all but hidden beneath thick, bony brows. The red bandana tied over his head oozes warm, red blood that runs down his cheeks to drip from his jaw. Storytelling Hints: The recruiter absolutely, sincerely believes in the rightness of the Red Badge’s cause. At first blush, he seems like one of the more rational members — he doesn’t scream and bellow, he doesn’t try to force changelings into signing up and he answers questions with frankness and honesty. But call his beliefs into question or insult his fraternity, and you’ll have a world of pain waiting for you. Contrary to the popular stereotype of Ogres, the recruiter is a savvy judge of character, and quickly picks up the best way to approach potential recruits. Those with family or loved ones in the mortal world he sways with stories of how they might suffer under the Others’ attentions unless someone is there to protect them. Already martially inclined characters are tempted with advanced training in Brawl, Firearms or Weaponry, and the weak and adrift are offered a home and a cause they can be proud of. Seeming: Ogre Kith: Gargantuan Court: Summer Entitlements: None Mental Attributes: Intelligence 2, Wits 2, Resolve 4 Physical Attributes: Strength 4, Dexterity 2, Stamina 3 Social Attributes: Presence 4, Manipulation 2, Composure 2 Mental Skills: Academics (Military Theory) 2, Computer 1, Crafts 3, Politics 2 Physical Skills: Athletics (Endurance) 3, Brawl 2, Firearms (Rifles) 3, Stealth 3, Survival 3, Weaponry (Swords) 2 Social Skills: Empathy 2, Expression (Patriotic Zeal) 3, Intimidation 2, Persuasion 3, Streetwise 2, Subterfuge 1 Merits: Brawling Dodge 1, Fighting Style: Boxing 2, Iron Stamina 2, Mantle 2, Willpower: 6 Clarity: 6 Virtue: Justice Vice: Pride Initiative: 4 Defense: 2 Speed: 11 Health: 8 Wyrd: 3 Contracts: Hearth ••, Eternal Summer ••, Fleeting Summer ••, Stone •••, Vainglory • Pledges: Motley Pledge, Reaper’s Pledge, Commendation Glamour/per Turn: 12/3 Weapons/Attacks: Type Damage Range Dice Pool Special Brawl 0(B) — 6 — Assault Rifle 4(L) 150/300/600 10 Autofire Sword 3(L) — 10 — The Doves Not all militia groups are saber-rattling extremists spoiling for a fight with any servant of the Others that might cross their path. There are those who recognize that the Lost’s greatest strength is often their talent for subtlety and misdirection, and that even the Gentry, as mighty and inscrutable as they are, are not omniscient. If a carefully orchestrated ambush and assassination can bring low one of the Lords of Faerie, then why charge headlong into battle in a futile search for glory? Far better to remain secret and strike from the shadows, leaving only mystery in your wake. This is the creed of the Doves, an intensely secretive, loosely knit cabal of changeling assassins and stalkers devoted to the destruction of the Others and their pawns. The Doves

28 Chapter One: Rivals named themselves after the bird in the tale of Noah, for they see themselves as heralding the safety of humans and changelings from the depredations of the Others. The small irony of the organization’s “dove-like gentleness” is not lost on all of them. Composed mostly of Darklings and Wizened of the Winter Court, the Doves maintain a loose network of cells in freeholds around the country. Each cell is typically composed of two to four changelings, one of whom is designated as the cell’s leader and is aware of two or three other cells in neighboring cities. Rumors amongst the organization’s members hint at a higher command structure — regional or even national leaders who issue clandestine orders in pursuit of a grand vision of the destruction of the Fae. Cell leaders remain tight-lipped on the subject, unsurprising given the secrecy of the organization. While the Doves will move against any target they can identify and believe they have a chance at destroying, they prefer to focus their energies on the Banished and on mortal and changeling thralls of the Others. These beings, who are most consistently active in the mortal realm, are the greatest danger to their kind, or so the Doves reason. The fact that such earthbound foes are, on the whole, significantly less powerful than the lordly denizens of Arcadia is doubtless also a factor. At first glance, the Doves might not seem especially antagonistic to the typical motley. Sure, the Doves’ methods might be somewhat questionable, but at least they’re targeting genuine threats, right? Well, yes and no — as with most militia groups, what makes the Doves a threat isn’t their goals or ideology but their methods and willingness to pay any price, no matter how horrendous, to achieve their ends. In the case of the Doves, what pushes them over into antagonist territory is their secrecy and institutional paranoia. The Doves have seen so many traitors and sleeper agents sell out their own kin that the organization as a whole is paralyzed by the belief that discovery means certain betrayal and recapture. Maybe not right away, but if the existence of the Doves becomes common knowledge, then it’s only a matter of time before they are betrayed and rooted out. No, the only way to survive is to maintain absolute secrecy, so that the traitors never know whom to betray. Upon joining the Doves, every member swears a particularly grim pledge to never reveal the secrets — or even the existence — of the Doves to any outside the group. Breaking the pledge means death; there is no lesser penalty. Further, every member is obligated to permanently silence anyone who learns of the existence of the group through any other means. Failure, once again, is punished with death. In return for these harsh laws, though, the Doves gain potent supernatural acumen and access to the finest training in the assassin’s arts. The Dove’s Promise By blood and breath and olive branch, I swear myself to silence. By heart and soul and promise of safety, I swear to protect the secrets of my brotherhood. No word of us shall pass my lips on pain of death; no whisper of our presence shall escape my vigilance. This I swear upon my heart’s blood and life’s breath. May death come on swift white wings if I prove false. Type: Vow Tasks: Alliance, Greater (–3, applies to the member’s cell-mates and the Doves as a whole); Endeavor, Greater (–3, kill any who learns of the existence of the Doves); Forbiddance, Medial (–2, never reveal the existence of the Doves) Boons: Adroitness (+3, Athletics, Stealth, Melee); Blessing, Greater (+3, any one Fighting Style Merit); Blessing, Medial (+2, Fleet of Foot) Sanction: Death (+3) Duration: Lifelong (–3) Invocation: 1 Willpower This pledge is sworn by all members of the Doves upon their membership. Refusing the oath is not an option; to refuse the Dove’s Promise is to be slain (the Doves observe prospective members closely, and seldom make the offer of membership to those who might refuse). Typically, the cell leader swears this pledge with all of the members of his cell. If you decide that the Doves actually do have a higher organizational structure, you may wish to modify this pledge to include the fealty task. Dove Knife-Dancer Quote: “I’m sorry. It’s really nothing personal. But you’ve heard too much.” Background: The Knife-Dancer is a typical example of the sort of assassin employed by the Doves. Graceful and acrobatic, she uses her natural physicality and her preternatural gifts of deception and agility to accomplish the most difficult hits with total surprise and no witnesses. In her mortal days, she was an acrobat in one of those traveling avant-garde circuses that claim to reinvent the experience of the circus. Her grace, beauty and mystique caught the eye of a dark and grim Knight of Ghosts and Shadows, who took her for his own at the climax of her greatest performance. As she spun and twirled between the parallel bars, she vanished in plain view

Through a Mirror Darkly: Other Changelings 29 of the entire audience. They thought it was a trick; after all, the same girl was there dancing the next night, wasn’t she? Even her co-performers never suspected that what finished out the show that night was a dim reflection of her, a thing of cracked mirrors and bits of shadow. Snatched from her life at her proudest moment, the Dancer was forced to serve as entertainer and courtesan to her fickle Lord Knight. Her Keeper grew easily bored, and each night, to keep her “fresh,” he would pull her apart and remake her in a new guise, sometimes human, sometimes not. When she finally slipped away in the dark of night and made her perilous way back through the Hedge, she swore she would never be taken again. Using her newfound gift for deception, she began to hunt mercilessly those who consorted with the Gentry. Shortly after she killed her third collaborator, she was approached by a man with eyes like hoarfrost with a very interesting offer. Description: In her natural form, the Knife-Dancer is a short, lithe woman with a gymnast’s build and the chalkwhite face of a Harlequin. Patterns of small whorls and diamonds accentuate the fine bones of her face, extending up over her hairless scalp and disappearing down her back. Her Hedgespun raiment appears to ensorcelled eyes as a formfitting jumpsuit of woven shadow beneath a loose, flowing cloak of dark gray smoke that conceals her movements without restricting them. The Knife-Dancer only wears this form when she is preparing to strike; most often, she is encountered (whether her quarry realizes it or not) wearing any of dozes of different faces. She uses her Contracts of Smoke and Mirror to ensure that she never appears the same way twice when stalking her prey. Storytelling Hints: The Knife-Dancer is the kind of foe you never see coming until it’s too late. She is subtle and resourceful, and more than willing to just walk away if she sees an ambush turning against her. Despite her willingness to go to extreme lengths to keep the Doves’ secrets, she doesn’t hold a personal grudge against those she has to kill to silence. Agents of the Others, however, are another story, and they can expect nothing so much as vaguely resembling mercy. The Knife-Dancer could come into conflict with a motley in any of several ways. If the characters have become aware of the Doves, she might be the agent dispatched to silence the characters. Depending upon how well the characters deal with her assault, and how merciful they are, she might be in a position to extend an offer of membership. Alternately, one or more of the characters might fall under suspicion of collaboration with the Gentry, in which case they will see a very different side of the Knife-Dancer. The Dancer might even be the catalyst that pushes the characters into discovering the existence of the Doves. Perhaps a prophetic dream hints at a hidden threat lurking within the freehold, or perhaps the murder of a prominent courtier leads the characters on an investigation. Seeming: Darkling Kith: Mirrorskin Court: Winter Entitlements: None Mental Attributes: Intelligence 2, Wits 4, Resolve 2 Physical Attributes: Strength 3, Dexterity 5, Stamina 2 Social Attributes: Presence 1, Manipulation 5, Composure 3 Mental Skills: Investigation 4, Occult 3, Politics 2 Physical Skills: Athletics (Dance) 5, Brawl 3, Firearms 2, Larceny 4, Stealth (Shadowing) 3, Weaponry (Knives) 4 Social Skills: Empathy 1, Intimidation (The Silent Treatment) 4, Streetwise 3, Subterfuge (Disguises) 3 Merits: Ambidextrous 3, Disarm 2, Danger Sense 2, Fast Reflexes 2, Fighting Finesse 2, Fighting Style: Two Weapons 2, Fleet of Foot 2, Mantle 2, Weaponry Dodge 1 Willpower: 5 Clarity: 4 Virtue: Justice Vice: Envy Initiative: 10 Defense: 4 Speed: 15 Health: 7 Wyrd: 2

30 Chapter One: Rivals Contracts: Darkness ••••, Mirror •••• Pledges: Dove’s Promise, Pledge of Horn and Bone Glamour/per Turn: 11/2 Weapons/Attacks: Type Damage Range Dice Pool Special Brawl 0(B) — 6 — Knives 1(L) — 11 — The Safe Harbor Society On the surface, the Safe Harbor Society looks like the kind of organization every freehold should be lucky to have. A cross-Court group of philanthropists, the Safe Harbor Society keeps an eye out for newly escaped changelings and helps to bring them into the Courts. The group’s members chart the prominent trods in the area and volunteer themselves to stand guard over the ones most likely to lead back to Arcadia. They even volunteer alongside mortal charities, particularly groups involved in land reclamation to build low-income housing. By all appearances, the Safe Harbor Society is just a caring, hard-working group of people, doing their best to make the world a little better for mortal and fae alike. And every single one of them is truly, fanatically devoted to obliterating any and all connections between Earth and Faerie. Beneath the smiling, Stepfordian façade, the Safe Harbor Society is a bevy of madmen, fanatics united in their goal to drive the Fae from the world forever by burning down every link between this realm and the Hedge. The members’ assistance to foundlings and charitable mapping and guarding of trods is just a cover; once they’ve mapped out every access point to the Hedge in the freehold, they’ll start systematically destroying them, one by one. They don’t care that they might be dooming prisoners still trapped in Arcadia to endless torment, or that local motleys might be stranded in their Hollows; those are acceptable prices to pay. Even the Society’s mortal charity work is bent to this end; through their Hedge-mapping activities, their prognosticators identify locations they believe will eventually become the ends of trods leading back to Faerie. Armed with this knowledge, the “charitable” members of the Society convince the mortals to bulldoze and landscape and build, an act they hope will alter the character of the land enough to prevent the trod from forming. The primary flaw in this plan, of course, is that it simply doesn’t work, at least not most of the time. Instead, all the Society is accomplishing is giving the Gentry a road into this world that ends in a densely populated housing development instead of an empty marsh or a fallow field. The Safe Harbor membership at large remains ignorant of this fact, but the upper echelons of its leadership know something is amiss. In their pride, they haven’t yet figured out that the flaw lies with their plan — they blame the local Courts for creating new gateways, and the leaders begin to suspect that something will have to be done about it, possibly sooner than later. Sister Abigail Quote: “You poor dear. I know you must be very frightened, but trust me, it’s for the best.” Background: Sister Abigail has always been an organizer and a leader. The socialite wife of a wealthy Manhattan investment banker, she was always the member of the “wives’ club” who organized the soirées and get-togethers, the cotillions and the charity balls. Her events were the events of the season; and if you were unfortunate enough to miss one of Abigail’s parties to which you’d been invited, you could look forward to being the social pariah for at least a year — maybe more, if it was an especially significant event. Rumor has it one congressman’s wife missed the debutante ball for Abigail’s daughter; the poor woman actually moved upstate, she was so utterly ostracized. Abigail’s time in Arcadia only sharpened her alphafemale tendencies and finely honed, subtle cruel streak. After five years overseeing the mad household of the Queen of Broken Spades, Abigail managed to carefully organize a grand Faerie Ball that subtly but unmistakably insulted every one of her mistress’s guests in some way. Abigail escaped as the challenges and proclamations of doom began coming down, and upon returning to the mortal realm and finding her footing within the local freehold, immediately set out to rebuild her circles of influence. At first, the Safe Harbor Society really was about helping the newly returned Lost and mapping the dangers of the Hedge, but as members began to meet unpleasant fates (hardly surprising given the inherent dangers of mapping unknown trods and standing watch over paths to Faerie), Abigail slowly came to realize that the only sensible thing to do was to close the whole thing down. She’s already brought her Society-mates around to her way of thinking, and they’ve actually managed to destroy one gateway by burning down an abandoned factory. Since then, Abigail has been moving cautiously. She knows the Courts probably wouldn’t approve of her goals, so she maintains the cover of a harmless society matron who bustles about organizing parties and charity to feel useful. Description: Just as many Wizened, Abigail is a small, slight woman, with bottle-blonde hair worn in one of a variety of conservative hairstyles. She favors slightly oldfashioned clothes in New York fashions; more than one changeling has compared her to Jackie Kennedy. Her face has a subtly aged look to it, and her eyes have darkened to almost solid black. Her fae mien remains startlingly similar to her Mask — many changelings simply don’t notice she is one of the Lost on first seeing her. Abigail is an extremely proper woman, always meticulous in her manners and scrupulously polite — but for all that, she can craft a subtly barbed insult and wield it with

Through a Mirror Darkly: Other Changelings 31 deadly precision when she is offended or irritated. She insists on the same level of politeness from her Society-mates, and indeed few actions can push a member to the fringes of the circle faster than a social faux pas at court. Storytelling Hints: Abigail and her Safe Harbor Society are excellent antagonists for a chronicle that focuses on the paranoia inherent in the changeling condition. The Safe Harbor Society should be downright creepy — no one is that helpful and kind and generous. Play up how eerily perfect this little group’s members seem to be, and how there’s just something a little off about their polite cheerfulness. Depending on whether you want to use the group as a major chronicle antagonist or just an irritating background element, you might introduce plot elements such as mysterious tenement fires or strange disappearances in recently developed areas around the freehold before linking them to the Safe Harbor Society. Abigail herself prefers to keep her battles squarely in the social arena. She is by no means a physical combatant, and truth be told, she isn’t all that bright, but she’s almost universally well-liked in the freehold, and even has some influential contacts in the mortal arena. Politicians love charity, after all. If a motley tries to expose her plan, she is more than willing to call in every favor and boon she can to marginalize and discredit the members. Seeming: Wizened Kith: Châtelaine Court: Spring Entitlements: None Mental Attributes: Intelligence 4, Wits 2, Resolve 2 Physical Attributes: Strength 1, Dexterity 3, Stamina 2 Social Attributes: Presence 4, Manipulation 5, Composure 2 Mental Skills: Academics (Finance) 3, Crafts 2, Investigation 1, Occult 2, Politics (High Society) 3 Physical Skills: Drive 1, Firearms (Pistols) 2, Stealth (Going Unnoticed) 1 Social Skills: Empathy 3, Intimidation (Veiled Barbs) 2, Persuasion 4, Socialize 3, Subterfuge 1 Merits: Allies (Local Politics) 4, Allies (High Society) 3, Court Goodwill (Summer) 2, Court Goodwill (Autumn) 3, Court Goodwill (Winter) 1, Mantle 2, Resources 3, Retainer 2, Status (Charity Organizations) 2 Willpower: 4 Clarity: 6 Virtue: Charity Vice: Pride Initiative: 5 Defense: 2 Speed: 9 Health: 7 Wyrd: 2 Contracts: Artifice •••, Dream •••, Eternal Spring ••••, Fleeting Spring •• Pledges: Commendation, Motley Oath, Ancient Pact, Reaper’s Pledge Glamour/per Turn: 11/2 Weapons/Attacks: Type Damage Range Dice Pool Special Brawl 0(B) — Chance — Light Revolver 2(L) 20/40/80 6 — The Bloody Nail Some bridge-burner groups are mostly harmless eccentrics — the changeling equivalent of people who believe the Earth is flat or that the power of the pyramid can give them a longer life and a bigger penis. Others are dangerous but ultimately not a tremendous threat to most motleys. These are the types who engage in property damage, arson and the like in their attempt to destroy passages into the Hedge. Every once in a while, though, a bridge-burner cell comes along that represents a clear and present danger to the entire changeling community. The Bloody Nail is one such group. Other bridge-burners think the key to cutting off the Fae’s access to Earth is the destruction of trods and gateways. Not so the Bloody Nail — these vile Lost know, or claim to know, that the only way to close the gates to Faerie forever is to eradicate every trace of Arcadia on this side of the Hedge. That means every changeling, every token, every Banished and ensorcelled mortal and escaped hobgoblin must be destroyed. Some members even extend their

32 Chapter One: Rivals mandate to include certain mortal wizards who claim their souls have a connection to Arcadia. Only then will the Others finally lose their purchase on this reality. The Bloody Nail operates on the fringes of freehold society. The group’s members swear allegiance to no Court, for they believe that every Wyrd-bound pledge only pulls Arcadia closer to the mortal realm. Members of the Bloody Nail often congregate around lesser-known trods, waiting to ambush newly escaped changelings and dispatch them with cold iron blades. The Bloody prefers to focus on weaker changelings for now; the group’s own numbers are not great, and not only are the young and inexperienced easier targets, their disappearances are less likely to draw the attention of the powerful elite. In time, as the cell’s strength grows, the Bloody Nail will begin to pick off more ambitious targets. And when all traces of Faerie have been scoured from this world, the Bloody Nail’s task will be done and the Bloody Nail will die, and the world will be safe at last. Tommy Red Hat Quote: “No excuses. No pleas. You have to die so the world can be safe. So shut up and hold still.” Background: Similar to many Ogres, Tommy Red Hat’s durance was one of savagery and brutality. Kenneled like an animal, he was turned out only to serve as his Keeper’s practice dummy. After spending years having every bone in his body snapped on a daily basis, he finally escaped and returned to Earth, scarred and broken and consumed with hatred for the Fae. He swore himself to the Summer Court, and fought in many skirmishes against Arcadian encroachers. Each battle only reinforced the cruelty and caprice of the Others, and Tommy soon became obsessed with the idea of locking them away in the Hedge forever. All his comrades assured him that such a thing was impossible — after all, doors into the Hedge were everywhere, and creating new ones was a simple matter for any creature of Wyrd. Real inspiration didn’t come to Tommy for a few more years. Visiting a former comrade-in-arms, Tommy arrived in time to witness the tail end of an assassination staged by a rival Court. The assailants retreated into the Hedge, using the gateway that led into the victim’s Hollow. Tommy tried to follow, only to find that the gateway didn’t respond to any of the established keys. When he tried to force the gateway to open, only to find himself gazing out onto an unfamiliar section of the Hedge, he had an epiphany. His comrade had died just moments before he tried to enter the Hedge — it must have been his death that closed the gateway. Tommy’s limited intellect immediately reached the “rational” conclusion: the deaths of changelings closed gateways into the Hedge. Tommy has tried to repeat his experiences on several occasions, but met with only occasional success. His “failures” he rationalizes away; obviously there’s no way to know which gateway was closed by a particular changeling’s death. The only thing to do is keep at it. Description: Tommy is a brutish, coarse little man with chalk-white skin and a disturbingly distended jaw full of steel teeth. He wears a red ski cap over his lank, greasy hair — in the right light, the hat glistens wetly and appears to be made of bloody muscle tissue. To mortals, he is a lumpen, repulsive little troll of a man, with wretched dentition and skin that looks to have never seen the sun (or soap, for that matter). He dresses in the ratty sweats of a blue-collar boxing coach, often spattered with mysterious, dark stains. He long ago forswore the Summer Court, but some tinge of it still clings to his mien — the occasional ripple of heat or flicker of flame dances across his features. He often carries an old, rusty butcher’s knife somewhere on his person, but when going out specifically to murder the fae, he bears a long, sharp spear of bright, cold iron. Storytelling Hints: Never a great thinker, Tommy prefers to charge headlong into any problem, trusting his Ogrish strength and toughness to carry him through any conflict. Against multiple opponents, he prefers to wade in bare-handed, using his Contracts of Stone to increase his damage potential. One on one, he favors his trusty knife or spear. Should he find himself outmatched, he has no qualms about retreating to fight another day. Every changeling must

Through a Mirror Darkly: Other Changelings 33 Fightin g Style: Chain Weapon s This Fighting Style Merit was first presented in World of Darkness: Armory. For a full accounting, see p. 209 of that book. In brief, Tommy Red Hat’s two dots in this Fighting Style give him access to the following maneuvers: • Impenetrable Defense: By forgoing his attack, Tommy gains a +2 bonus to his Defense. In addition, he does not suffer the cumulative –1 penalty to Defense from facing multiple attackers until the third attack aimed at him in a turn. •• Hand Bind: If an opponent attacks Tommy with a Brawl- or Weaponry-based attack, he may roll Strength + Weaponry — the attacker’s successes on the attack roll. If Tommy rolls more successes than his opponent, the attack fails, and the attacker’s hand is bound by Tommy’s chain (the attacker may roll Strength + Brawl to escape as an instant action). If Tommy still succeeds but rolls fewer successes than his opponent, subtract Tommy’s successes from the damage he suffers. Tommy can use this action once per turn, and using it counts as his next action in the initiative roster. die to close the gates of Arcadia, true, but if Tommy dies before all the others, who will carry on his work? Given the Bloody Nail’s leader and founder’s intellect (or lack thereof) and favored tactics, it is highly unlikely that the group will remain secret for long. The Bloody Nail works best as a short-term antagonist, good for perhaps a single story as the main antagonist or maybe a few stories if they are placed in the background. A chronicle featuring the Bloody Nail as antagonists will probably have a heavy emphasis on physical challenges, and likely climaxes with a brutal, knock-down fight with Tommy and his gang. Seeming: Ogre Kith: Gristlegrinder Court: Courtless Entitlements: None Mental Attributes: Intelligence 1, Wits 1, Resolve 4 Physical Attributes: Strength 3, Dexterity 2, Stamina 5 Social Attributes: Presence 3, Manipulation 1, Composure 3 Mental Skills: Computer 1, Crafts 2, Investigation 1, Medicine 2 Physical Skills: Athletics 2, Brawl (Grappling, Biting) 4, Firearms 3, Larceny 1, Stealth 3, Weaponry (Chains) 4 Social Skills: Empathy 2, Intimidation 4, Streetwise 3, Socialize (Lower Class) 3, Subterfuge 1 Merits: Brawling Dodge 1, Fighting Style: Boxing 4, Fighting Style: Chain Weapons 2, Iron Stamina 3, Iron Stomach 2, Toxin Resistance 2 Willpower: 7 Clarity: 5 Virtue: Fortitude Vice: Wrath Initiative: 5 Defense: 1 Speed: 10 Health: 10 Wyrd: 1 Contracts: Smoke ••, Stone ••• Pledges: Motley Oath Glamour/per Turn: 10/1 Weapons/Attacks: Type Damage Range Dice Pool Special Brawl 0(B) — 7 — Bite 1(L) — 9 — Chain 1(B) — 9 — Privateers and Loyalists Few changelings are as universally labeled “villains” as those who willingly serve the Others, either directly or by proxy. The Mad are insane and cannot be held responsible for their actions. Militias and bridge-burners have their hearts in the right place if nothing else. But actively working to return other changelings to the servitude of the Gentry is truly unforgivable. Even in freeholds with relatively liberal codes of justice, privateering and serving the Fae are almost always punishable by death. While the motives of these villains might not matter to the changelings the villains prey upon, it’s worth spending a moment, for Storytelling purposes, to distinguish between “privateer” and “loyalist.” A privateer is a mercenary, one who sells his fellow changelings to the Gentry, or sometimes to slave-traders at the Goblin Markets, for his own profit. Some privateers might work on retainer for a particular Fae or goblin trader, but the paycheck is what that motivates them, in whatever form that may take. By contrast, loyalists serve the Others directly, with profit being less of a factor. Loyalists’ motives are more varied, but for loyalists, whatever their reasons, serving the Gentry is the goal in itself. Motivations For privateers, greed is unquestionably the primary motivation. Some are after crass material rewards, others the more ephemeral promise of rare Faerie artifacts or ancient magics. Still others make the proverbial devil’s deal — temporal power in exchange for their soul. This latter motive is somewhat more common among greed-driven loyalists, but some privateers take their payment in the form of whatever favors their customers can grant. Depending on the priva-

34 Chapter One: Rivals teer in question, a captured changeling might be able to escape by offering a greater bounty than the price on her head. Other privateers are more careful to honor any deal made for a changeling’s capture, whether out of a twisted sense of honor or a healthy dose of fear at the consequences of breaking one’s word to a Lord of Faerie. Likewise, a privateer might let his quarry go if the Other who requested the changeling’s capture is killed or banished. Obviously, this latter technique only works if the privateer is acting as a bounty hunter — entrepreneurs just out to score a payment will simply take their “wares” to another prospective buyer if one is available. If greed is the predominant motive among privateers, then worship of the Gentry must be the most prevalent motivating factor for a loyalist. This motivation is correspondingly rare among privateers, as those who worship the Others would never dream of asking their gods for payment. One might argue that this is, essentially, what religious offerings and prayers are, and as such some Fae-worshipers could be called “privateers,” but the key difference lies in expectation vs. hope: a privateer expects reward for her service, while a true worshipper hopes for it. Not all servants of the Others serve willingly. Many loyalists serve out of fear, usually motivated by the threat of being returned to Faerie to serve their Keeper directly once more. Privateers may be the same; their “letters of marque” are a badge of security to them, giving the True Fae reason to let the privateers run free. These changelings are the most likely to refuse to give any mercy or quarter to their enemies, and yet, paradoxically, if they can be reached, they are the most likely to turn traitor against their masters. After all, when one’s master is a fickle, inscrutable Prince of Arcadia, one’s personal safety and continued liberty are far from guaranteed. Nevertheless, many changelings seize on the slim hope that their usefulness will ensure their continued freedom — so long as they provide other servants for their masters instead. Many fear-motivated loyalists are wracked with intense guilt and shame; many go mad, and not a few end up taking their own lives. Madness is seldom a motivation to begin privateering or serving one of the Gentry, but it is certainly a common consequence of those lifestyles. The madness of a loyalist is often tainted in some way by the strange compulsions and taboos of the True Fae the loyalist serves — a servant of the Prince of Ten Thousand Midnights goes into a hysterical panic if caught outside at dawn, while a slave of the Chatelaine of Crimson mumbles incessantly about the allure of blood. Madness-driven loyalists are quite common, but are not encountered often in the mortal realm — the Gentry seem to find these loyalists’ derangements soothing, or at least amusing, and often call them back to longer and longer service within Faerie.

Through a Mirror Darkly: Other Changelings 35 Turning Coat The burden of privateering weighs heavy on the soul, and those not made of stern stuff are often dragged down into the cold embrace of insanity, joining the ranks of the Mad. Loyalists, for reasons already mentioned, seldom end up traveling this road. The Gentry see no reason a trivial thing like madness should excuse a servant from his duties. A loyalist whose master is destroyed or banished, however, might become one of the Mad, and there are occasions when, for his own inscrutable motives, one of the True Fae simply abandons a servant no longer useful or entertaining to his own devices. Militias are the least common faction to which a privateer might transition. It isn’t unheard of for a privateer to eventually feel remorse for her actions, but it’s a rare militia indeed that would accept such a vile traitor into its ranks. Very infrequently, a turncoat loyalist might be accepted by a militia, but only if she can offer compelling evidence that her servitude was forced on her against some dread consequence. Self-preservation is rarely adequate cause, but truly extenuating circumstances such as being forced to choose between serving the Fae and seeing one’s entire mortal family carried away to Arcadia might be accepted. Most changelings who abandon the service of the Fae gravitate toward the bridge-burners, primarily for reasons of self-preservation. Loyalists are rightly terrified of what their former masters might do to them, and even privateers know that their buyers are unlikely to accept “I’ve retired” as an excuse. Faced with the alternatives, the idea of banishing the Gentry from the mortal realm forever sounds very appealing indeed. Storytelling Privateers and Loyalists Privateers make excellent antagonists because, just as Nazis in World War II films or the slavers of the Amistad, they are so morally reprehensible you don’t care how unpleasant is the fate that befalls them. This isn’t to say privateers are cardboard cutouts, or that they can’t be nuanced and interesting characters — they aren’t, and they should be. Think of Belloq in Raiders of the Lost Ark — he is wholly unsympathetic and unquestionably the villain, but he nevertheless has an intriguing character and understandable motivations (namely, profit). Privateers are excellent short-term antagonists or personal rivals, but if you’re looking for a more epic villain to last an entire chronicle, you may want to look elsewhere. Privateers tend to be rather base in their motives, which makes them less compelling long-term enemies. On the other hand, a privateer who has discovered some arcane secret that threatens to enable him to turn the entire freehold over to the Gentry might make for a very interesting chronicle villain. Perhaps he has unearthed a ritual that will open an enormous gateway that leads directly to Faerie in the middle of the freehold’s territory, or perhaps he has acquired a token in the form of manacles that render those bound in them mystically powerless. Loyalists can fill the same role of “unrepentant villain” just as well as privateers. The fact that they are mere servants and not the masterminds of their own schemes might make them seem less threatening, but consider a Fairest in the vein of the evil Rochefort in The Three Musketeers or a Hunterheart investigator patterned after Maugrim, the White Witch’s lupine secret police chief in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Both serve another master, but are nevertheless fearsome and dangerous enemies. As an added bonus, once the troupe has defeated the lieutenant, you have a ready-made antagonist for the next chapter of your story. Loyalists can also be effective if you reveal a twist that casts them in a more sympathetic light. A vicious and unrepentant villain who abducted a character’s lover and sent her back to her Keeper might become a more tragic figure when the motley learns that she only serves her cruel master because he has vowed to release her brother who still labors in their Keeper’s fields. If the players don’t go for it, don’t push this angle too hard, or you risk making it seem like the villain they’ve build up a healthy dose of hatred for is actually the misunderstood hero of the tale. Do consider turning the tables at some point, by introducing a character who refuses to forgive the troupe for some morally questionable act the characters believe was justified or necessary. Shuck’s Crew The motivations of most privateers are at least easy to understand, albeit repellent. Greed, fear and a warped sense of loyalty are common enough reasons for a changeling to sell out his brethren. Changelings such as the motley known as Shuck’s Crew, on the other hand, are motivated by an even less savory drive: quite simply, they believe that the Others are not as rightly feared in this day and age as they should be. Oh, to be sure, the changelings fear a return to their slavery in Arcadia, but that isn’t the same thing as truly fearing the Gentry for all their awesome and terrible power. As for the mortals, well, most of them don’t even believe in the Others, let alone fear them. Shuck and his gang of degenerate monsters believe it’s their duty to change that. Only when humans and changelings worship the terrifying beauty of the True Fae will the world be as it should, and the Glamour of fear and heartache will flow like wine, and Shuck and his compatriots will sit at the left hands of the Lords of Faerie not as slaves, but as seneschals and trusted lieutenants. They are quite mad, of course. Each and every one of them has multiple derangements, Shuck himself not the least of them. Some say Shuck was never stable to begin with, or that he came back from Faerie just plain mad as a hatter. Others say it was a chance meeting with a Darksome Princess deep within the Hedge that twisted his mind. Whatever the cause, Shuck gathered a motley of the most

36 Chapter One: Rivals ruthless monsters ever to slip out of Arcadia, and through a combination of his own fervent rhetoric and systematic abuse and deprivation, molded them into a fanatically devoted cult. One part Manson family, one part terrorist cell, Shuck’s Crew is frighteningly unhinged and frighteningly devoted to its ideals. Similar to most privateers, Shuck’s Crew focuses on abducting and returning the Lost to Arcadia, but they certainly aren’t above procuring mortals for the Gentry. Occasionally, the Crew works directly for a goblin merchant, or more rarely a Banished or lesser Fae, but just as often they simply take their victim on a whim and leave her, bound and gagged, on a trod known to lead back to Faerie in the hopes that one of the Others will come riding by and take her. Shuck’s Crew haunts a mostly empty stretch of state road between the local freehold and a nearby neighbor. Changelings would be wise to avoid that road whenever possible, but since the interstate adds another two hours to the trip, sometimes there is no choice when speed is of the essence. The motley makes its lair in a creepy farmhouse in a fallow field; according to local lore, the place is haunted by the ghost of the farmer, who went crazy one night and murdered his wife and four children with a wood ax. Several of the doorways inside the house lead into the motley’s Hollow, a nauseating mix of abattoir, fairy tale witch’s hut and cult worship area. At least one of the doors opens onto a large trod that connects after an hour’s walk to one of the main concourses known to be used by the Gentry. In addition to Shuck himself, the motley is composed of four other members: the Scissor-Man (an Autumn Court Ogre), John Capp (Winter Court Beast), Razor Molly (Courtless Darkling) and Pretty Bill (Autumn Court Fairest). Statistics for the rest of Shuck’s Crew are left up to you, so consider tailoring them to complement the troupe’s strengths. If the motley has a civilized and lordly Draconic knight with a penchant for duels of honor as its main combatant, make the Scissor-Man a brutish Stonebones who relentlessly plows through his enemies. If the motley’s main combatant is instead a knock-down, drag-out Beast, you might make the Scissor-Man a stealthy Farwalker who favors hit-and-run attacks. Shuck Quote: “Oh, you ain’t afraid yet, sonny-boy. But you will be when you see who’s waiting for you.” Background: Jimmy Lawrence was a mean, tough old sumbitch, one of the last of the real Texas shit-kickers. He was so tough and ornery, in fact, that when the Baron of the Black Gate needed a dog to patrol his lands and keep out trespassers, he passed right over ex-Marines, gangbangers and prize-fighters and went straight for old Jimmy Lawrence. If you believe the man himself, he fought tooth and nail the whole way back to Faerie and killed three of the Baron’s goblin retainers before they threw him out into the yard. Jimmy spent a dozen years patrolling those dark and grim lands that butted up against a place where the restless dead seeped out of a hole in the world. He learned to hunt with teeth and talon, to move without sound and to drive the dead before him like a herd of sheep. When he came back from Faerie, Jimmy Lawrence was no more. His name was Old Shuck, now — he took it himself after a story his ma told him as a boy. The first thing he did was run down his fetch, and the locals will tell you that before he died, “Jimmy Lawrence” swore he saw a huge black dog stalking him. They say it was the fear that killed the old man — but then, they never found the body, so who can be sure? Shuck could, but the black dog that killed Jimmy Lawrence was never seen in that town again. Somewhere between there and here, Shuck joined the Autumn Court. He knew fear was power from his years patrolling the Baron of the Black Gate’s haunted lands. It wasn’t until later, after a harrowing trip through the Hedge with his first motley of which he was the sole survivor, that he stumbled upon the “revelation” that led to his new philosophy. The old hound gathered a new motley to him and “persuaded” them to come around to his way of thinking, and now they haunt the back roads and forgotten highways, reminding folk of what it is to fear the Others. Description: A grizzled, leathery old man in his mid50s, Shuck looks like the typical weather-beaten old farmer,

Mortal Antagonists 37 all denim work shirts and John Deere ball caps. His fae mien is inky black, with eyes like saucers that catch any light and throw it back in a grim, green glow. His features have a distinctly canine cast to them, and he casts the shadow of a large dog, possibly a mastiff or Doberman. This has led more than one changeling to mistake him for a Beast. Shuck’s madness is plain to see almost immediately upon meeting him. He is twitchy and irritable, with the manic intensity of a street preacher hopped up on smack. He often forgets basic things like bathing and eating, so he frequently looks malnourished and filthy, which does little to reinforce his claims of sanity. He talks with a thick, Texas twang, and is fond of quoting pseudo-Biblical prophecies and judgments that admonish listeners to fear and worship the mighty Others. Storytelling Hints: Shuck is completely crackers, and he’s the only one who doesn’t seem to notice. There’s no reasoning or bargaining with him; any questioning of his words leads to a sound thrashing and a frenzied litany of “prophecy.” The only way Shuck’s Crew is going to be shut down is by taking them all apart, piece by piece. Shuck himself will fight to the end, and while he might not be a match for an entire motley on his own, he’s quite adept at sowing fear and dissent and striking at their heels while his motley harries his opponents. Shuck and his crew are excellent “bogeyman” antagonists. Consider setting up rumors or news reports of people going missing along a stretch of rural road outside the freehold a few sessions before debuting Shuck as the villain. Use the dilapidated farmhouse and its weird air to instill a sense of dread, and then ambush the players with a brutal assault by Shuck and his motley. Seeming: Darkling Kith: Gravewight Court: Autumn Mental Attributes: Intelligence 3, Wits 4, Resolve 4 Physical Attributes: Strength 4, Dexterity 3, Stamina 2 Social Attributes: Presence 4, Manipulation 2, Composure 1 Mental Skills: Investigation (Tracking) 3, Occult (True Fae) 4 Physical Skills: Athletics (Running) 3, Brawl 4, Drive 1, Stealth (Stalking) 2, Survival 1 Social Skills: Animal Ken (Canines) 3, Intimidation 5, Persuasion 3, Subterfuge 2 Merits: Allies (Gentry) 2, Direction Sense 1, Hollow (Size 5, Amenities 2, Doors 5, Security 3) 15, Fast Reflexes 1, Fleet of Foot 3, Mantle 3, Toxin Resistance 2 Willpower: 5 Clarity: 2 Virtue: Faith Vice: Wrath Initiative: 5 Defense: 3 Speed: 15 Health: 7 Wyrd: 4 Contracts: Darkness ••••, Eternal Autumn •••, Fang and Talon (Canines) •••, Fleeting Autumn •, Mirror •••, Smoke •• Glamour/per Turn: 13/4 Weapons/Attacks: Type Damage Dice Pool Brawl 0(B) 8 Mortal Antagonists Humans are just sheep, aren’t they? Poor, addled souls with only one eye on the real world, the other closed to the truth of Glamour and Wyrd. At least, that’s what some changelings like to think. The Lost can easily be convinced of their own excellence by dint of their altered physiology and mastery over various elements, and it’s easy to assume that humans are sad fools who remain ignorant of what’s really going on around them. In many cases, yes, that’s true. Humans have their eyes closed to what’s really going on, as it’s easier to willfully disregard those strange little moments (“Did I just see someone leap between buildings? I could’ve sworn he had wings. I really just need to get a full night’s sleep…”) than it is to give into them, thus opening a door that perhaps cannot be closed. But if changelings think that humans aren’t dangerous, then changelings are the real fools. Humans are oft armed with just enough knowledge to get them into trouble, and to bring that trouble down upon the whole freehold. Some humans aren’t willfully ignorant at all, but become addicted to even the smallest glimpse of Glamour at work in the world. Even a spark of magic can draw the human into the world of the fae, like a moth to a flame. (Except, of course, this moth might be carrying a .38 snubnose that he fully intends to use before immolating himself in the mad magic.) Humans are dangerous, even deadly. Humanity exists in a numberless flock, far outstripping the power of a handful of changelings. Humans are also connected to the larger society, and have access to all kinds of things that the Lost may not — be it guns, money or health care. That’s not to say the Lost don’t have access to these things, but the further they move from the human world, the more unlikely it is that they are connected to the larger body of humankind, and the less grasp the Lost have on mundane resources. Humans, on the other hand, are intimately connected to the social network of their own world, and can use it against the changelings either on purpose or inadvertently. The danger of a given human is in many ways multiplied when the Lost bring him into their world through ensorcellment. Yes, it’s useful to have a mortal aide who is at least somewhat “in-the-know,” and has a taste of the magic for himself. But in some ways it’s also like giving a child a gun. Accidents happen.

38 Chapter One: Rivals The Lost think they’re in danger from the Fair Folk? From one another? From gibbering beasties clawing their way from the tangled Hedge? All that may be true, but it often doesn’t compare to just how dangerous humanity can be. If a motley makes one misstep in that mortal world, the entire wave of humankind might come crashing down on the characters, a tidal force with a cruel undertow. The Many Dangers of Humankind In presenting humans as a danger to the Lost, you have several options. (In this case, we’re talking about humans who remain largely ignorant of magic — in other words, not ensorcelled.) The easiest and most straightforward manner is to present a single human antagonist. One human is dangerous. He might have a gun. He might have a grudge to bear. He might have family members who will hide him and keep him safe even as he’s on the run from the cops for putting two bullets in a changeling’s head. The single human antagonist can serve a number of purposes. While a motley can likely deal with him in somewhat short order, how characters deal with them is likely going to be a point of conflict in the game — and, remember, conflict is what these games are all about. Whatever they do to handle him reflects back upon them. If they do anything that can be construed as negative — hurt him, hurt his family, shape his mind, enslave him, just plain kill him — they will be faced with the cold reality that they are, perhaps, the monsters the sad fucker imagined them to be. If they take it easy on him, offering him something, the deal might come back to bite them later. Maybe he’ll be spurned and inadvertently summon the True Fae. Maybe his fragile mind can’t really handle ensorcellment. It’s a tightrope walk, to be sure. Alternately, it’s possible that the single human antagonist is stronger than the characters suspect, better connected, and has greater access to potent resources. Thus, this human antagonist might serve as a dogged enemy that continues to resurface over the course of a story or chronicle. Sure, sometimes they think they’ve done away with him, but he always shows back up, some new trick up his sleeve (be it a straight razor or a warrant for their arrest). Another option is a group of humans who work as a nest of antagonists. This isn’t about some global conspiracy to eradicate changelings — these humans aren’t some wellfunded arm of the Mormon Temple or a black-ops splinter cell with rifle scopes that can detect Glamour. While such groups may or may not exist, we’re talking about groups of humans acting on the local scale. Imagine a kind of support group for humans who, together, witnessed the intrusion of a True Fae into this world. The group might start out as just a weekly meeting where they get together to talk about their nightmares and to try to justify just what it was they all saw, but as the months go on they might start honing their anger and confusion. They might buy some shotguns from Wal-Mart. They might decide they need to protect their neighborhood from those “things.” Alternately, feel free to consider a local conspiracy. A local real estate agent who catches a glimpse of Glamour or is somehow manipulated by a motley of changelings (thus causing him to lose his family or his wealth) might orchestrate a narrow conspiracy against that motley. The people he manipulates into working against the changelings don’t necessarily know what they’re doing — the building inspector who moves to condemn a building in the freehold and the cop who’s been convinced to keep an eye on the area from his black-andwhite don’t know anything about changelings, but these humans are antagonists just the same. That’s an important element to the non-ensorcelled antagonist. These humans are only barely in the know as to what’s going on. They likely don’t know a thing about magic, Glamour, Wyrd or any of that stuff. They just know they were somehow taken advantage of, or that the targets of their ire are somehow “weird” or “deviant.” Remember that changelings often take advantage of humans, often without thought to what it means for the human. The Lost always have the potential for the callousness of their Keepers — it lies, perhaps unrealized, perhaps harnessed, deep in A Theme of Madnes s Consider that the theme of most human antagonists is going to be madness. Be it a little touch of madness or a whole big bag of it, even the barest glimpse of the magical world is enough to plant the seed of insanity in any human. Just as changelings must struggle to retain their clarity of mind, so, too, do humans have difficulty processing the irrationalities of the fae world. The thing to remember is that this is not a funny madness, it’s not some crazy guy flinging his shit around, babbling about UFOs. It’s a keenly honed, cold madness that exhibits itself in many ways. On the small end, it’s the madness of a phobia or an obsession. A man who can’t sleep because he dreams of things he doesn’t understand, or who finds himself idly drawing strange symbols (that sometimes look like doorways lined with thorns). On the large end, it’s the madness of a serial killer, who does what he does because he knows no other way. It’s the insanity of someone whose life has gone so far off the rails (though this may not be obvious to the casual neighbor) that he can barely identify himself anymore in all the voices he hears inside his head. Madness is creepy. Big or small, it’s what makes these humans dangerous.

Mortal Antagonists 39 their hearts and it sometimes comes out without them even realizing what they’ve truly done. Some changelings leave in their wake a line of spurned humans: a jilted lover here, a conned rube there, a bullied family member somewhere else. Any and all of these mortals might one day be thorns in a changeling’s side. Tupelo Rosie Quote: “C’mon. Just let me in. I want to talk to him. I’ll give you anything.” Background: Rose Gonzalez, from Tupelo, Mississippi — hence the name, Tupelo Rosie — is a self-made woman. A sculptress with a keen eye and hand for bringing the unlikeliest images from within inert materials, she came to Miami to make her way among a burgeoning artists’ community. For a time, she lived out of her car and on the streets. But, over time, she made something of herself, and was for a while the toast of the town, a true artist with a love for the art and a disdain for the money it could bring in. Her downfall came when she met the changeling. He was handsome. Too handsome, really, impossibly beautiful. And the way he made her feel! So many emotions drawn to the surface, fanned like flames. She was hooked. She was in love. She let her work fall by the wayside, and he let her do so (because her attentions were now upon him and this sated his deep-seated vanity). But then came the day when he was done with her, finding that the vital spark that she possessed was diminishing and, therefore, no longer attractive. It didn’t end there. Rosie knows where he goes, knows who he hangs with. She’s developed an eating disorder (bulimia) and has become quite the alcoholic. She hasn’t touched her studio in months, instead choosing to spend her time going to the area within and around the freehold, banging on doors, trying to see her ex-lover so that she may confront him. She’s making a lot of noise. She’s drawing a lot of attention. The changelings are getting worried, and grow concerned that her ex-lover isn’t properly handling the problem. If he doesn’t deal with her soon, they’ll have to do it. The question therefore becomes, how? Description: A real firecracker, Rosie was once the portrait of a vibrant artist garbed in many colors, but lately she seems bedraggled. Her hair is in a mess, her makeup smeared, her breath reeking of whatever gut-rotting brew she could find. Her once-cherubic cheeks are now gaunt. Her eyes sit deeper in her head than what’s normal. She looks the part of a ghost, a shadow of her former self wracked with disease, grief or both. Storytelling Hints: Rosie’s drunk most hours of the day. She’s turned her charming boisterousness into a loud screech, her attitude shifting wildly between soulful beseeching and angry ranting. Rosie’s been jilted, big-time, and it consumes her. She’ll do anything for anybody to get just five minutes of fave-time with her ex-lover. Rosie is dangerous not because she’s good with a gun or violent, but because she’s out of control and a magnet for unwanted attention. Mental Attributes: Intelligence 2, Wits 4, Resolve 2 Physical Attributes: Strength 1, Dexterity 3, Stamina 2 Social Attributes: Presence 4, Manipulation 4, Composure 1 Mental Skills: Academics 1, Crafts (Sculpture) 4, Investigation 1 Physical Skills: Larceny 2, Stealth 2, Survival (Streets) 1 Social Skills: Animal Ken 1, Empathy 4, Expression (Jokes) 3, Socialize 3, Streetwise 2, Subterfuge 1 Merits: Allies (Artists) 2, Allies (Barflies) 2, Barfly, Fame 1, Language (Spanish) 3, Meditative Mind, Resources 1 Willpower: 3 Morality: 6 Virtue: Charity Vice: Lust Initiative: 4 Defense: 3 Speed: 9 Health: 7

40 Chapter One: Rivals Roddy Van Bastelaar Quote: “I’m taking it all back, you scum-fucks. What’s mine is mine.” Background: Roddy’s always been on the cusp of something, he believed. He was a good-looking guy. Not too stupid. He kept himself in good shape. All around him were the beautiful people, the rich people, the terminally happy. One day, he decided, that would be him. Working as a bouncer at one of the hottest clubs in Miami, he shook a lot of important hands, and one day he believed that would pay off. And then came those goddamn con artists. How they smelled out his desperation, he didn’t know. But they were good-looking. Funny. They seemed to like him so much that they offered to help him out — they had access to the world he so dearly wanted to be a part of, and it became clear that they were his doorway in. Sure, they seemed a little strange, but didn’t all the wealthy elite? “Eccentric,” isn’t that what they called it? He just had to buy his way into their world — like they had, or so they said — and soon he’d be the one dancing in the club, not standing outside by the ropes. They took him for everything he had. Over the years, Roddy had built up a pretty nice little bank account for just such a moment, but they bent him over the rails and that was that. He tried to get his money back, tried to beg with them, plead with them, but they just found it funny. Somehow, they fucked him even more — next thing he knew, he didn’t have his job anymore, his car was in impound and his long-time girlfriend found pictures (fakes) of him with two other girls. Worst of all were the nightmares! The faces of those who screwed him, mocking him, playing with him. It’s been a hard road to revenge. He’s taken a pound of flesh from them, crippling one of those dirty E u r o t r a s h b a s t a r d s , but for every eye he takes of theirs, they take something from him. It’s been a near-constant game of one-uppance over the last year, and Roddy’s got the scars and obsessions to prove it. But now he knows of others like them, and he knows where they live, where they do their sordid little business. And he’ll come for them all, as soon as he’s ready. Description: Roddy’s a fireplug. Not too tall, but build like a brick outhouse. Once, he was tan, well-groomed, good-looking. Despite the muscles, though, he’s no longer the well-kept bouncer. He’s got a patchy beard. A nose twisted from a bad break. His skin is pale, marked with toodark tattoos. Weird thing about Roddy? He hasn’t blinked in a long time. Just one long, eerily determined gaze. Storytelling Hints: You’re on a crusade for vengeance driven by envy. He doesn’t know that the people who screwed him over were changelings, and isn’t even aware of the term. He just knows that they’re too rich, too beautiful, and they don’t deserve what they have. They’ve built their little kingdom atop those they’ve conned, and Roddy wants to end that cycle of abuse for him, for everybody. He’s keenly focused, and it’s really starting to scare people. The one thing Roddy has in this world that’s his touchstone is his family. When he’s with them, he softens… at least for a time. Mental Attributes: Intelligence 2, Wits 3, Resolve 5 Physical Attributes: Strength 2, Dexterity 3, Stamina 4 Social Attributes: Presence 1, Manipulation 3, Composure 3 Mental Skills: Computer 1, Investigation 3, Medicine 1, Occult 1 Physical Skills: Athletics 2, Brawl 2, Drive (Big Cars) 4, Firearms (Close Range) 3, Larceny 1, Stealth 1 Social Skills: Empathy (Family) 1, Intimidation 3, Persuasion 2, Streetwise 3, Subterfuge 2 Merits: Allies (Bouncers) 3, Common Sense, Contacts (Private Eyes) 2, Gunslinger, Quick Draw, Stunt Driver Willpower: 8 Morality: 5 Virtue: Justice Vice: Envy Initiative: 6 Defense: 3 Speed: 10 Health: 9 Weapons/Attacks: Type Damage Range Dice Pool Special .357 Magnum 3 35/70/140 9 (10 dice pool at close range) Burke Stolhanske Quote: “Remember what I said. Stay quiet. Stick to the shadows. Eyes peeled.” Background: Holy shit, there are people in the sewers.

41 Burke’s seen them. He works down there, too, with all his buddies performing maintenance for the city. They keep to the shadows, but damn, they’re there. His friends didn’t believe him at first, thought he was crazy, but that just pushed him to prove it — his pride was on the line, after all, and if a working class man doesn’t have his pride, he doesn’t have dick. Burke’s a good man. A family man, two kids, a distant wife. He’s also a good worker, steadily rising through the ranks of the city’s public works department. He knows there’s not a lot of glory or glamour down in the sewers, but he makes great effort to do his job very well, and he’s been rewarded for it time and time again. Now, he’s starting to get weirded out. His buddies have seen them, finally, but the cops haven’t found anything, and Burke’s own bosses either look at him like he’s gone off the reservation or just dismiss it as a bunch of homeless nobodies finding some sewer tunnel shelter for the night. But Burke’s seen how these people go into a doorway, and just disappear. He’s seen how their eyes glow sometimes down there in the dark. How they can conjure a light out of nothing. So, he and his buddies have made a pact. They’re going to get to the bottom of this. They aren’t moving in hard and fast; this isn’t some military operation. They’re biding their time. Watching, waiting, collecting evidence (like those twisty little thorns they sometimes find on the ground — newsflash, there aren’t any plants like that down in the sewers). When the time is right, they’ll strike. It’s not about violence. It’s about solving the riddle, about unraveling this mystery. If it’s just a bunch of homeless dudes, fine. But Burke knows that it’s something else. Something… stranger. Description: Burke’s a big boy — tall and wide. He likes to eat, so he carries a lot of meat on his prodigious bones. He’s got a boyish face even though he’s in his 40s, and hands like manhole covers. But despite his size, he doesn’t carry himself poorly. He’s not clumsy, and can make his way through the relatively tight tunnels with greater ease than everybody expects. Storytelling Hints: Burke’s not an obsessive guy, but this whole “people in the sewer” thing has really gotten under his skin. He can’t let it go. It’s starting to affect his home life, too. Normally he makes plenty of time for his kids and even does his best to please his often displeased wife. But lately, it’s been about the secret meetings with his guys in his garage. Wife thinks they’re playing poker, but that’s not the case. They’re planning. Plotting. They’re getting impatient, but Burke’s a real patient guy, and he’s good at persuading them to hold off just a little bit longer. Mental Attributes: Intelligence 3, Wits 2, Resolve 3 Physical Attributes: Strength 4, Dexterity 2, Stamina 3 Social Attributes: Presence 2, Manipulation 2, Composure 3 Mental Skills: Computer 1, Crafts (Plumbing) 3, Investigation (Darkness) 3, Medicine 1 Physical Skills: Brawl 1, Drive 1, Stealth 2, Weaponry (Blunt) 2 Social Skills: Animal Ken 2, Intimidation 1, Persuasion 1, Socialize 2 Merits: Direction Sense, Giant, Iron Stamina, Resources 2, Strong Back Willpower: 6 Morality: 7 Virtue: Prudence Vice: Pride Initiative: 5 Defense: 2 Speed: 11 Size: 6 Health: 9 Weapons/Attacks: Type Damage Range Dice Pool Special Louisville Slugger 2(B) — 9 — Mortal Antagonists

42 Chapter One: Rivals Aldous Blackwell Quote: “You saw her? Tell me where. Don’t worry — I pay well for information.” Background: The Fair Folk took Aldous Blackwell’s daughter nearly 40 years ago. He himself was 40 at the time, and she had just turned 16. She was the heir to his fortune, what with his wife dead from a car accident and no son to speak of. Bethany, the daughter, was Blackwell’s pride and joy. But when he went into her room one day to find the windows open and the curtains blowing, he was shocked at what he witnessed outside. Three stories below, a dark horseman in a flowing red cloak carried her away, draped over the hindquarters of the husky beast. The police, of course, were no help — they found no sign of her abductor, not even the hoofprints of the horse (which s h o u l d ’ v e shown on the damp, dewy front lawn of Aldous’s estate. Over time, Blackwell grew to accept what he believed was the reality: some human monster with an eye toward theatrics had k i d n a p p e d his daughter, raped her and killed her. He grew richer. He grew colder. He withdrew from the world, becoming more and more the eccentric überclass hermit. And then, there she was. One night on the news, interviewing some witnesses to a gang-related crime in the city, and in the background, he saw her. She looked bedraggled, worndown, but she was the same age. An impossibility, to be sure, but Aldous knew his own daughter’s face. She was alive. And, by proxy, so was he. That single sighting of his daughter has consumed him utterly. He doesn’t know she’s a changeling, of course, and only returned to the world a few years ago (time being what it is between this world and Faerie). But he’s got the resources to find out. In the last two years, Aldous has been like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole, sending out agent after agent (mostly private detectives, but he also pays various vagrants, criminals and gang members to do his work) to collect information and report back. He’s established a rather dense dossier on a number of the freehold’s changelings and their strange activities. It all brings him closer to Bethany, or so he hopes. He has a great deal of money and a fierce passion for finding his daughter. Woe to any changeling who stands in Aldous’s way. Description: He’s a tall old man, nearly skeletal, mostly bald, a well-trimmed Vandyke beard framing his normally stern mouth. He rarely steps out of his long, flowing silk robe. For a long time, before seeing Bethany again, he was dead-eyed, hollow-gazed, staring off at nothing. But now, there’s a fire in the dark of his eye. He smiles, something his mouth hasn’t done in nearly 30 years. Storytelling Hints: Aldous is alive again. That’s how he feels. His hands tremble with excitement. He stammers over his words — odd for him, normally a slow and measured speaker. His daughter is alive, and it is a kind of mad miracle, one that he clings to as dearly as a baby holds its blanket. Those who help him in his quest will be paid handsomely. Those who obstruct his journey will pay dearly. Aldous’s daughter could well be one of the players’ characters, if both Storyteller and player are so inclined. If this isn’t appropriate, Bethany is now a Winter Court Mirrorskin known as Mooncalf, grown somewhat paranoid. She fears reunion with her family would draw the attention of her Keeper, and thus her reticence is likely to bring Aldous into a more aggressive role in the chronicle. Mental Attributes: Intelligence 4, Wits 3, Resolve 5 Physical Attributes: Strength 2, Dexterity 2, Stamina 1 Social Attributes: Presence 3, Manipulation 3, Composure 3 Mental Skills: Academics 4, Computer 2, Investigation (Microfiche) 3, Medicine 1, Occult 1, Politics 3, Science 1 Physical Skills: Athletics 1, Drive 1, Firearms 1, Stealth 1 Social Skills: Empathy 1, Expression 1, Intimidation (Money) 3, Persuasion (Money) 3, Streetwise 1, Subterfuge 3 Merits: Allies (Upper Crust) 3, Contacts (Criminal Elements) 2, Contacts (Police) 1, Contacts (Private Eyes) 3, Encyclopedic Knowledge, Resources 5, Status (Corporate) 5 Willpower: 8 Morality: 6 Virtue: Hope

43 Vice: Wrath Initiative: 5 Defense: 2 Speed: 9 Health: 6 Where’s the Fetch ? While the fetch is, of course, a common replacement for those mortals abducted into Faerie, not every Fair Folk replaces what it takes. In this case, however, the Fae did leave a fetch behind in the woods not far from Blackwell’s estate — and the fetch wandered, lost, eventually dying from exposure and turning into its constituent parts (twigs, leaves, hissing cockroaches, swatches of painted burlap). Bethany’s fetch simply didn’t make it home. The Ensorcelled Ensorcelled mortals provide a whole other avenue of concern for the Lost. Yes, the ensorcelled can be tools — a human who is allowed to be in on “the secret” and realize that the characters aren’t raving lunatics but are instead truly magical beings? Well, that’s a resource to be carefully cultivated. The concern is, not every changeling so carefully maintains that relationship. Alternately, some cultivate it just fine, but an ensorcelled mortal isn’t automatically an ally to the whole freehold. What’s mentioned above about mortal antagonists is, a little knowledge can be a big danger. Ensorcellment, in some cases, takes that to the next step. Now a human knows who the changelings are. He knows of what they’re capable. Sure, he’s likely to be getting something out of the bargain, but humans the world around have thrown away perfectly good careers and relationships because of outof-control emotions. Being tied to Glamour to intimately can… tweak the ensorcelled mortal’s brain a bit. Glamour doesn’t set the world spinning off its axis most of the time, but does introduce a certain unreality into the mind, tempting imbalance. The ensorcelled might go nuts. He might go rogue. He might want more out of the deal than what he’s getting. Yes, the changelings have ways of dealing with this element, but just as all things, it can be imperfect. Slip up, let him go and one might have a very deadly — and ultimately knowledgeable — foe stalking you from within the mortal herd. Magic and Mortals Below are a number of problems potentially presented by the ensorcelled. These problems are not universal, but represent reasons why an ensorcelled mortal could present a problem for the Lost either as a rogue ally or a full-blown antagonist. Madness As an optional rule, you might consider making it easier for ensorcelled mortals to gain derangements from degeneration. One’s eyes being opened to Glamour — with the very stuff infusing that human’s body — is certainly wondrous and strange, but it might well be too wondrous, too strange. The very existence of this magic is at odds with the reasonable centers of most human beings’ brains. Therefore, it might become easier for a human to develop tics, foibles, little insanities. When making the Morality roll (post-degeneration roll) to check for a derangement, that roll is made at a –1 penalty. Alternately, you might consider not making derangements easier to gain, but easier to for them to surface once they are gained. Any Resolve + Composure roll made to resist manifesting a derangement could be made at a –1 penalty. Frailties One option, too, is that instead of manifesting derangements, a human ensorcelled may develop frailties (banes and taboos) much in the way that changelings do. Think of a human who can’t cross a line of spilled salt, or one who gains physical discomfort from hearing the chiming of an open music box. Friend of Enemies The ensorcelled can very well be pledgebound to an unsavory or antagonistic motley, thus making that ensorcelled mortal an enemy instead of an ally. The motley to which the mortal “belongs” needn’t be outright evil, which means the ensorcelled isn’t evil, either. But if the motley is in any way hostile to the players’ characters, then the ensorcelled will act in similar opposition. This, by proxy, makes an otherwise normal (if there is such a thing) ensorcelled a very real antagonist. Friend of the Fair Folk The Fair Folk have mortal agents in this world, plain and simple. These mortals, ensorcelled by the potent Glamour of the True Fae, needn’t be bound by any pledge, but simply have their eyes ripped open to the reality of Wyrd’s presence in the world. And, just because that agent isn’t actually pledgebound doesn’t mean he won’t do every damn thing that the True Fae demands of him — the conseThe Ensorcelled

44 Chapter One: Rivals quences of failing the Fair Folk are both many and endless. Denying a Fae master might cause one to lose his family, friends, job, money, his whole damn life… because the fiend will take it from him inch by inch, like plucking bits of wing from a fragile butterfly. (Though, it’s worth noting that some Fae do bind their ensorcelled mortals by pledges instead of just infusing them with Glamour.) Ensorcelled mortals working for the Fae are dangerous indeed. Such mortals operate as spies. They function as soldiers. One Fae agent might perform intense weeks-long surveillance on a given changeling’s activities to report back to his mistress. Another might strap a bomb to his chest or carry an arsenal of guns into the freehold and just start taking changelings out left and right (as the mad Fae squeals with delight from somewhere far away). Remember, too, that the Fae are in themselves wondrous. They can appear like brave gods, tempting demons, otherworldly beauties or punishing angels. A human being can easily be seduced by this. Some humans even work for the Fair Folk under the promise that one day they, too, will be taken away to “beautiful Arcadia” to become changelings. Of course, such a reward is no reward at all, but when a Fae appears garbed in the very ideal of raw majesty, it’s hard to believe that such a being could be lying. Eternal Ensorcelled Some humans can become ensorcelled simply by being exposed to Glamour at work in this world. This doesn’t require the deliberate efforts of a Fae or changeling, but if a mortal is in some way affected by or a witness to a situation involving Glamour or Wyrd, he may have the scales ripped from his eyes forever. In what situations can this happen? A human manipulated too many times by Contracts. Or perhaps a human who witnesses something that his mind finds impossible to parse: a changeling calling up a tidal wave of water, a grotesque Other entering into this world, a vicious attack by a howling hobgoblin. Maybe the human wanders into the Hedge, or just catches a glimpse through the doorway and sees what lies among the Thorns. It’s even possible that the human hasn’t really been affected by Glamour at all, but suffered some manner of trauma that allows him to retreat into a very real fantasy world (think head trauma or some kind of abuse as a child). The thing about such characters is that they can’t shut it off. They can’t close their eyes and stop seeing the truth about things. For some, this is liberating — they feel special, powerful, sanctified. Others feel cursed. Many go mad. Eternally ensorcelled humans can be great allies or persistent antagonists — some humans can even be both, helping the changelings in one motion while hurting them the next. Alternately, consider that having one’s perspective shift dramatically can be traumatic (often on top of whatever trauma was initially suffered). It isn’t unthinkable that an eternally ensorcelled individual might not see true Glamour in action, but instead would perceive a world poisoned by it (much as the “poisoning ensorcellment” sanction in the system of pledges). He would see only monstrosity. Beautiful things would all be ugly. The splendor of Wyrd would be vile and frightening. This is likely to cause derangements and, at least initially, a complete withdrawal from the world. Some manage to build their will against such a thing, though, and venture out to destroy the awful things they see hiding in the shadows. Assume that, not only are such characters ensorcelled, but they gain the Unseen Sense Merit, as well. Ensorcelled as Characters Want to play the ensorcelled? While this is a book predominantly about antagonists, an ensorcelled would make an entertaining and challenging character. You’ll find that you need no special rules to play them that aren’t present in either this book or Changeling: The Lost — they can see changelings, Glamour, the Hedge, the world’s mien in all its glory and horror. Apart from that, the ensorcelled are simple mortal World of Darkness characters. If you feel that changelings are perhaps too powerful or too strange for the mood you seek to present, and you’re looking for characters who are a little more vulnerable and “in the dark,” then ensorcelled might be a good way to go. Crossover Potential Ensorcellment needn’t be limited to humans. With Storyteller approval, any of the other “monster” character types (vampires, werewolves, mages, changelings, psychics, ghouls, wolf-blooded, etc.) could attain ensorcellment. (Note that such characters cannot gain Contracts in anyway, but they can possess some changeling Merits such as Court Goodwill.) For purposes of this book, that means you have a whole other bevy of antagonists from which to choose. Obviously, the other denizens of the World of Darkness make for interesting antagonists all on their own, but once they become ensorcelled, they gain an even greater connection to the Lost and can always see the magic of the Fae without any effort on their parts. While such characters can be highly useful, they can also be dangerously unpredictable. Many possess urges to give in to their monstrous sides, and such urges can become hard to deny (especially when their minds are addled with magic). Others, such as mages, are intensely curious — some so curious that it must be labeled an obsession. They all present great value and great risk to the Lost. Which makes them damn fine antagonists, indeed.

45 Broken Pledge A broken pledge can lead to a vengeful mortal — one who may no longer be ensorcelled, or one whose eyes still can see the effects of Wyrd on the world. One possibility is that a mortal’s ensorcellment grows poisoned as the result of his breaking a pledge. Perhaps he didn’t mean to break it. Maybe it was on purpose. But a mortal experiencing a poisoned ensorcellment is in for a rough ride, indeed. All that he sees of Glamour is distorted, cast in the hues of nightmare, twisted and misshapen into something grotesque. While many mortals can’t handle this, and either go catatonic or flee at the sight of such false wretchedness, some stand against it. They steel themselves against the nightmare — likely not understanding what’s really happening — and fight it. Some might even think that they now see the true reality, that all the fairy gold was just dross, that all the beautiful dreams were truly just nightmares. Another option is that a mortal feels wrathful over any kind of curse that resulted as a broken pledge. Maybe his ire is up because his blessing is gone. Or maybe the curse has cause him accidents (crashing a car, chopping off a thumb, accidentally falling off a ladder) that hurt him or a loved one. Sometimes, a human breaks a pledge and doesn’t really realize that he’s done it. He might mistake what he did for something that was perfectly acceptable — but, in reality, he brought danger to the changeling or accidentally gave away too much information. (Consider, too, that other changelings can be quite manipulative, and might lead him astray without him even realizing it.) Upon experiencing the results of the broken pledge, a mortal may feel spurned and sour, and seek revenge as if it’s somehow the changeling’s fault. The mortal may even turn this anger against all the changelings, because if one apple is bad, the whole bushel must be, too. Chan gelin g Merits Worth noting: ensorcelled mortals can possess dots in the Court Goodwill Merit, though it’s incredibly rare that this Merit goes above two dots. Unless the Storyteller declares otherwise, a human cannot maintain a Hollow or gain Glamour from possessing the Harvest Merit. New Identity works, and needn’t be Lost-centric. Handsome Johnny Quote: “You gimme my goddamn face back, you sonofabitch.” Background: Johnny was three years old when his mother fell asleep on the couch with a lit cigarette. The fire that burned up their trailer and their two cats also burned up little Johnny. Unlike with his mother, though, the fire didn’t kill him — it just left him with a cratered burn-victim face for the rest of his life, a callused mask of variegated skin. Socially, this stunted Johnny, and most of his formative years were spent as some kind of bully, miscreant or outright criminal. This continued into his early 20s, which saw him running rackets and cons for various black market outlets. All that changed when he met the motley of Darklings. They saw that he was a talented man despite his face, good at getting things done and not worrying so much about dirtying his hands. They bonded with him as a motley, performing the Household Rite variant of the Ancient Pact, thus ensorcelling him and opening his eyes to the world. In return for his service, they allowed him to reshape his The Ensorcelled

46 Chapter One: Rivals face. Not only did his face no longer bear the burn scars, but he was outright good-looking, giving some credence to his once-ironic nickname, Handsome Johnny. (In system terms, the pledge afforded him the four-dot version of the Striking Looks Merit.) All that changed when the changelings of the motley were killed. Johnny still doesn’t know how it happened — but he damn sure knew when. They all died together, torn into gory gobbets in their shared Hollow. Handsome Johnny, enjoying a nice schvitz in the steam room, felt his face start to shift. The bones slid beneath the skin. The flesh puckered and sizzled as if being burned all over again. His good looks were gone. His awful crater-face had returned. That broke something inside Johnny. Whatever dam was holding back his anger fell to scree beneath the surging tide of rage. He wants his face back. He knows all those who associated with his motley, and he knows what they are. He’s no longer reasonable, and nobody wants to involve him in another Ancient Pact, and that hasn’t made him any calmer. He’s determined one way or another to get his face back, no matter who he has to manipulate, hurt or kill to make it so. Description: As noted, Johnny’s face is the mask of a burn victim — one eye is exposed, the socket pulled wide and the skin taut, the other eye buried in a puckered pocket of scarified flesh. His upper lip is in a permanent sneer, and his nose is little more than a piggish knob squat against his face. He dresses in denims and leathers, never forgetting his trademark black bowler cap. Storytelling Hints: Here’s Johnny’s basic attitude in a nutshell: fuck the world. Fuck anybody who looks at him wrong, and fuck those fairy fucks who don’t want to help him get his pretty face back. Johnny believes the world owes him a great deal, and anybody who’s a part of it better pay up or find his hand in their purse or foot on their throat. What Johnny wants, Johnny takes. He wasn’t always this way, of course — his selfishness used to be contained, kept only for truly weak moments. Now, though, he’s little more than an arrogant, angry guy who believes himself entitled to just about everything. Mental Attributes: Intelligence 2, Wits 4, Resolve 3 Physical Attributes: Strength 2, Dexterity 3, Stamina 4 Social Attributes: Presence 1, Manipulation 3, Composure 2 Mental Skills: Computer (Running Scams) 3, Crafts 1, Investigation 2, Medicine 2, Occult (Fairy Tales) 2 Physical Skills: Athletics 1, Brawl 3, Drive 2, Firearms 2, Larceny (Lockpicking) 4, Stealth 3, Weaponry 1 Social Skills: Expression 1, Intimidation 2, Persuasion 3, Socialize 2, Subterfuge 4 Merits: Danger Sense, Fresh Start, Quick Draw, Quick Healer, Iron Stamina 3 Willpower: 5 Morality: 4 Virtue: Fortitude Vice: Pride Initiative: 5 Defense: 3 Speed: 10 Health: 9 Weapons/Attacks: Type Damage Range Dice Pool Special Brass Knuckles 1(B) — 6 Uses Brawl Sawed-Off Shotgun 4(L) 20/40/80 9 9 Again Pigbaby Quote: “Please, baby, don’t be mad at me. I’ll do better next time. Please?” Background: Pigbaby — born Dixie Walnut — just wanted to be loved. Love wasn’t something she grew up with, though, not really. Her father was a couch-bound drunk, her mother a wicked abuser (and a whore amid the trailer park cast-offs). Any and every boyfriend Dixie had was a user, abuser or outright loser. Even her dogs ran away from her, every last one of the fool hounds. Her future wasn’t too bright — she got her GED, worked down at the local Wal-Mart, still lived at home in the trailer park. But that’s when she met the Stripling Prince (p. 81). She was out back one day, the summer heat beating down on her, and she was hosing down the kiddie pool so she could cool off a bit before her shift. And, there he was. Sitting atop the half-dead shrubbery that ringed the trailer’s so-called yard. He was a beautiful soul, and her heart twisted and shuddered in her chest and like that, she was in love. At that point, she was still Dixie Walnut, but she’d be Pigbaby soon enough. The handsomest fellow disappeared again, receding from the trailer park, and Dixie was left wanting. But soon she started to dream of him sweeping her off her feet, taking her away from this miserable life and into the arms of love. The dreams felt real. And, of course, they were real. Because the Stripling Prince was in her dreams, slowly feeding her Glamour until one day she was unwittingly ensorcelled. The Prince owns Dixie — whom he called Pigbaby because she’s pretty though she has what he calls “a piggish little nose” — heart and soul. For now, she’s still in the trailer park, but he gives her gifts and does little favors for her. Other, stranger things have happened, too, for which he claims credit: her father is up off the couch and looking for a new job, her mother’s got lung cancer and her dog Jumper has come back to her. All good things, way she sees it, thanks to the Prince. Of course, he loves her. And sometimes love is a little bit about abuse, too, but Pigbaby is comfortable with that. No matter what he does to her, he treats her better than anyone ever has (and ever will, if his word is to be believed), and he’s given her a magic eye where she can see the most

47 Social Attributes: Presence 4, Manipulation 2, Composure 2 Mental Skills: Computer 1, Crafts 1, Investigation (Little Details) 3, Medicine 1 Physical Skills: Athletics 2, Drive 2, Larceny (Shoplifting) 3, Stealth 1, Survival 1 Social Skills: Empathy (Boyfriends) 4, Expression 2, Socialize 2, Subterfuge 2 Merits: Contacts (Trailer Park) 2, Natural Immunity, Quick Healer, Striking Looks 2, Toxin Resistance Willpower: 3 Morality: 6 Virtue: Faith Vice: Lust Initiative: 5 Defense: 3 Speed: 9 Health: 7 Reesie Thompson Quote: “I see all kinds of things, man. Grams said I had the Evil Eye. Shoot, maybe she’s right.” Background: A stray bullet from a gangland shooting ended Reesie Thompson’s chances at a normal life. He was eight years old when it happened, just playing in the living room near the front window, rolling a pair of Hot Wheels around on the sill. Before he knew it, he was on the ground, bleeding, glass all around him. Next thing he remembered was being wheeled out into the street on a gurney, and high up above him, he saw a couple of things — big as people, with legs and arms like them, too — flying in front of the moon. Something else, too — a crow-faced man with a bloody string of something hanging from his beak — watched from a rusted fire escape. The bullet nearly killed Reesie. He spent some time in a coma, walking in a place both beautiful and frightening, a fairy tale maze of brambles and towers, of muddy roads and the prettiest flowers he could ever imagine. Upon waking, Reesie’s eyes wouldn’t close to all the magic in the world. He could see Glamour in action. He could see what the Lost really looked like, congregating on the corner just outside the crack house on 9th Avenue. He could see the doorways — real, they were real — into the magic land of thorns. Reesie was ensorcelled eternally. These days, Reesie’s considered an odd bird around the neighborhood. In his mid-30s, he doesn’t have many friends except the homeless guys, the owner of the corner barber shop and a handful of changelings. He works for the changelings when he can, because he knows what they are and what they’re capable of, and whatever work this entails, he’ll do. Sometimes the work is friendly. Sometimes it isn’t. Most of the Lost in the freehold don’t know who Reesie is and what he can see, but those who do use him frequently, because he’s on their “side,” at least in spirit. wonderful things. Yes, she has to do whatever he says, and sure she sometimes thinks that the collar he sometimes clasps around her neck is just a little too tight (and the leash a little too short), but she’s happy. For the first time ever, she’s genuinely happy. Description: Pigbaby looks older than her 19 years, with lines around her eyes and mouth. She’s certainly cute what with those sprouting pigtails and pink-painted lips, making her look a little bit like a doll — but look deep enough, one can see that this doll is more than a little bit broken. True to the Prince’s nickname for her, she does have a slightly upturned nose. Storytelling Hints: Pigbaby is addicted to the Stripling Prince. She’s profoundly dependent upon him, gladly giving herself to him the way an addict does to his pills or drink. He’s sometimes cruel to her, but he’s sometimes really nice, too, and that’s never happened to her before. She’ll do anything to gain his approval. If that means hurting someone, so be it — once upon a time, she was just too sweet to do something mean to somebody else, but for her darling Prince, anything is possible. Mental Attributes: Intelligence 2, Wits 3, Resolve 1 Physical Attributes: Strength 1, Dexterity 3, Stamina 2 The Ensorcelled

48 Chapter One: Rivals (Worth noting is that his dingy tenement apartment is actually home to a pretty massive library spanning various topics. Assume that he knows a lot about the occult, and his library reflects this. It might earn him or anybody who uses it a +1 to Occult-based Research rolls.) Description: Reesie’s tall, haunted, skin as dark as midnight. He wears T-shirts most of the time, even in the coldest winter, and he’s fond of showing off his bullet wound (which itches whenever he’s around spent Glamour) to people just to freak them out. Reesie doesn’t move fast. Everything he does is measured, evenly paced, as if too swift or too rash a movement might get him shot again. Storytelling Hints: Reesie is a slow talker, almost spooky the way he enunciates certain words and drags out the others. He’s also intense, often disturbingly so. The thing about Ressie is, he doesn’t really know whose side he’s on other than his own. His family’s long gone. Most people don’t like to talk to him. He still lives in the same place he always did, smack dab in the middle of gang territory in a pretty poor part of town. He’s got money, but he doesn’t much know what to do with it. And, while he appears comfortable enough with the kinds of things he sees due to his ensorcellment, the reality is, he’s not the tiniest bit comfortable. It freaks him out still, to this very day; his heart races, his blood turns to chilled piss. Someday, Reesie wonders what will happen if he snaps. He isn’t there yet, but he can believe that day is coming. Mental Attributes: Intelligence 3, Wits 2, Resolve 4 Physical Attributes: Strength 2, Dexterity 2, Stamina 2 Social Attributes: Presence 3, Manipulation 2, Composure 4 Mental Skills: Academics 2, Computer 2, Crafts 1, Investigation (Research) 4, Occult (Local Folktales) 3 Physical Skills: Athletics 1, Larceny 2, Stealth 3, Weaponry 2 Social Skills: Empathy (Body Language) 4, Expression 1, Intimidation 1, Streetwise 2 Merits: Allies (Booksellers) 1, Allies (Homeless) 3, Contacts (Librarians) 3, Holistic Awareness, Fleet of Foot 2, Meditative Mind Willpower: 8 Morality: 7 Virtue: Prudence Vice: Sloth Initiative: 6 Defense: 2 Speed: 11 (Fleet of Foot) Health: 7 Weapons/Attacks: Type Damage Range Dice Pool Special Pocket Knife 0(L) — 4 — Mister Chamberlain Quote: “Two of our own are dead. It is time to kill the killers.” Background: Chamberlain was, perhaps, destined to serve the Winter Court. He has led a life of sorrow. He witnessed it on the passage from Haiti. He saw it on the streets with the other children. Once taken off the streets, he saw how completely grief destroyed the children in the orphanage. To survive, he learned how to stir grief, how to cause it, how to glean pleasure from sorrow — his own, and of others. It was perhaps expected that he would one day work the streets. Drugs were his trade, and he was good at it. Drugs helped stave off grief in the short term, and bring it in the long term. While he wasn’t so consciously aware of how dearly this pleased him, others were aware. Changelings of Miami’s Silent Arrow — shepherded by Jeremiah Sleet — watched Chamberlain vigilantly, and soon came the day that they were offering him employment for rewards

49 of money and magic. Sleet’s people took Chamberlain in like family. A dysfunctional family, to be sure, but they worked together as crew and kin. Over time, the Court’s ensorcelled began working together exclusively, operating as a cell of powerful humans working behind the scenes of the Winter Court. Then came the day that the first of them was killed. Dumped at the base of the General Toussaint L’Ouverture statue was Proud Mary, one of their own. Weeks later, another of their group ended up at the feet of the statue, this time the young dealer, Yellowfin. Just a boy! This could not be. Would not be. And so, with Sleet’s approval, Chamberlain and the other ensorcelled act as a cell, sniffing out the identity of those who killed their own. They suspect the Summer Court, and so far their information hasn’t disproved this. When the time comes that the ensorcelled discover the murderers — and just how high up the treachery goes — they will bring justice down upon the heads of those betrayers with great hell and fury. Description: Chamberlain is a zaftig Haitian, big and round and stuffed in a breezy white suit. He walks with great purpose and, despite any apparent seriousness, is always found smiling (with his lips, if not his eyes). Despite his big body, he has alarmingly small hands with delicate, spidery fingers. Storytelling Hints: He speaks clearly, loudly, his booming voice making proclamations left and right. He tells jokes to ease the tension, then brings home tales of horror, sadness and revenge. He’s a man of many plans and big ideas, and right now the thing that consumes him is his urge for revenge against those who would dare to steal his family from him. When it comes to changelings of the Winter Court, Chamberlain trusts them utterly. Any other Lost from any other Court, he mistrusts without fail and is willing to put any of them to the fire to find out the truth. Given that he has Sleet’s permission to do that very thing, that makes Chamberlain a very dangerous man. Mental Attributes: Intelligence 3, Wits 3, Resolve 3 Physical Attributes: Strength 2, Dexterity 2, Stamina 4 Social Attributes: Presence 4, Manipulation 2, Composure 4 Mental Skills: Investigation 2, Medicine 2, Occult (Voodoo) 3, Politics 1 Physical Skills: Brawl 1, Drive 2, Firearms 1, Larceny 2, Survival (Streets) 3, Weaponry (Found Objects) 3 Social Skills: Empathy 1, Intimidation 2, Persuasion 2, Socialize 2, Streetwise 4 Merits: Allies (Drug Dealers) 3, Contacts (Gang Bosses) 3, Eidetic Memory, Resources 3, Strong Back Willpower: 7 Morality: 5 Virtue: Justice Vice: Gluttony Initiative: 6 Defense: 2 Speed: 9 Health: 9 Weapons/Attacks: Type Damage Range Dice Pool Special Tire Iron 2(B) N/A 6 –1, Improvised Weapon Rolf Reiter Quote: “Aber es tut mir leid — sorry! Had to step out for a drink. Am I late?” Background: Rolf is one of the undead, a bloodsucking fiend with a crummy little haven out in Lemon City, not far from Miami. He didn’t grow up there; born in Germany, Rolf was brought over to Florida when he was very young to stay with his uncle, who had just purchased a lemon grove (a piece of property that would never actually yield a single edible The Ensorcelled